#'coughs' i got a fic with a shiny in it and it's mentioned a little bit 'cough'

[lovepmd]

So I have a headcannon regarding Shiny Pokemon in the PMD world. I headcannon that Shiny Pokemon in the PMD world are treated with high regard. due to their unique color and rarity, Pokemon often treat them as celebrities or anything with high standards.

Because of this some Shiny Pokemon are spoiled, while others don't matter if they're Shiny or not. They're still ordinary Pokemon with a different color in the end.

yes absolutely

i think it would be so interesting to think about and look at

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Bruised Apologies

A Glark Fic for and based loosely on @justablah56 and it’s post!! Is it my best work? idk! Warning for violence? (someone getting punched and mentions of past violence just in case!)

[Aether Hihi I hope you enjoy this! Again, I’ve never written these guys and also idk how to portray characters that well in fanfic so uhhh fuck it we ball. This is a bit short and idk if it follows your Tumblr post well]

(She/They Terry and She/Her Sparrow btw! To avoid confusion and this is set when these guys are late teens/early twenties :])

Lark spat blood out on the floor, catching himself before he fell. The crack that had rung out when Grant had punched his face still hung in the air. The hand holding the railing and stopping him from falling was already splattered with blood, none of it his. He could hear Grant running up to meet him and by the time Lark got his balance, Grant was shaking his shoulders.

“Lark, buddy,” Lark could hear the fear in Grant’s voice and when he met his eyes, it was even clearer. The boy’s jacket was covered in dirt from when he had fallen, and Lark couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw his blood on Grant’s hand.

“I didn’t mean- it was the adrenaline I think-I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologize.” Lark’s voice was ragged from yelling earlier. 

“I asked you to hit me.”

“Yes but not that hard!” While Grant was stuttering out another apology, Lark noticed that Grant’s nose was bleeding. Around them, the empty parking lot was lit dimly with streetlights and the building Lark was leaning up against had a sign reading D.A.D.D.I.E.S in a business font. Coughing, he stood up, Grant hurriedly copying him. Lark held a hand to his cheek, trying to feel how much damage there was.

“How bad does it look?” Grant paused.

“Not that bad but that doesn’t mean its ok, I think it could bruise so- “Lark covered Grant’s mouth with his hand.

“Thanks, you don’t need to apologise again,’ He removed his hand and Grant went to speak but seemed to think better for it since he stayed quiet. Lark wiped the blood from Grant’s face, not doing a good job since he himself had blood on his hand. In the end he ended up putting more blood than removing it from Grant’s face. Grant laughed awkwardly and took a piece of cloth from his pocket.

“It’s one of Terry’s cloths for her glasses since they forget them, I think it could work,” Lark took it and cleaned his hands and Grant’s face in silence.

“Lark,”

“Hm?” Grant’s hands met his and Lark looked up to see him looking at him.

“What?” Lark put the cloth back in Grant’s hands and stood back, the silence now weighing on him.

“For fuck’s sake spit it out!” This was the loudest Lark had raised his voice that night besides when he had yelled, and he could feel his throat ache.

“Sorry.” Grant’s voice was cautious and when Lark didn’t say anything he continued.

“I know you said to hit you, so we’d be even, but I don’t want to hurt you again.” Grant’s hands were warm. Lark couldn’t help but remember when he’d talked to Sparrow about  kissing Grant. She’d said go for it, but he didn’t think this is what she’d deem as the right time.

“I don’t want us fighting to become a thing we do ok?” Lark wasn’t paying attention. Grant’s eyes were shiny, from pain or tears Lark didn’t know, and he was waiting for a response.

“Lark please- “Lark leant forward, grabbing Grant’s jacket. Sparrow’s voice in his head yelled something about him being stupid but he waved her away as he pressed his lips to Grant’s. Grant mumbled something in surprise, but it was caught up in their kiss. Grant’s hands cupped Lark’s face and the kiss turned into what Lark could describe as hunger and relief. Grant’s lips were broken and chapped from when he worried, they were dry, but Lark didn’t complain. His weren’t any better. Lark’s hands found their way under Grant’s jacket and held his waist.

“LARK OAK GARCIA.” The two of them pulled away quickly, Lark looking around and saw that they’d been kissing right in front of D.A.D.D.I.E.S main entrance and Nicky Freeman stood there, huffing as if he’d had to run there. He was joined by Terry being dragged by Sparrow, the two of them sprinting as if their life depending on it. The scene was frozen with Lark still holding Grant’s waist, Grant blushing with his head in his hands, Terry and Sparrow shocked and Nicky smiling like he’d won the lottery.

“Right Sparrow you owe me,” He held his hand out and Sparrow slapped it away, nodding.

“You guys kissed right in front of the security cameras,” Terry said, still struggling to catch her breath. Sparrow walked over and shook Lark by the shoulders.

“You’re lucky it was just us actually, Mr Wilson had just left, and I think you could have given him a heart attack if he’d seen,” she said this jokingly, but he knew he’d be getting a talk either from Sparrow or his mum. They all started walking in, and Grant ran up to Lark from where he’d been giving Terry their blood-stained glasses cloth and caught him by the arm.

“Uh-was that a yes to my question?” Lark laughed and nodded. 

“Yeah it is.” Grant smiled and walked alongside him into the warmth of the HQ and by the time they got in the elevator, his hand was looped in Lark’s.

[strangermarvelss]

strange love- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: eddie has a date, with someone who isn’t you. you’re less than thrilled about it

Warnings: ANGST, jealousy, unrequited love, eddie being clueless, cursing, mentions of vomiting, me knowing nothing about D&D (i’m sorry but it deserves a warning), eventual best friends!-to-lovers!

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: alright y’all this is the imagine i had talked about a few days ago and as someone who loves these kinds of fics, i’m quite proud of myself. also i apologize for my lack of knowledge about D&D, eddie would definitely be disappointed, but i had a friend read it over and he thinks it makes sense so we’re going with it! i hope you all enjoy :)- sava

part two

“Well hello everybody!” Eddie exclaims, scaring half the Hellfire lunch table with his presence. You hear groans and curses fill the table as Eddie laughs at the reactions he pulled from his friends. You just sit in the seat that’s located on the left of his, laughing at his usual antics, but curiosity begins to strike when you take a look at Eddie.

His face is bright and shiny, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he sits down with his lunch, pulling out some pretzels to munch on. You take in the other details about him, how his hair looks actually kept up and how he doesn’t reek of his usual pot smell, but of…cologne? You had no idea who it was that was sitting next to you, but it sure as hell wasn’t Eddie Munson.

“What’s got you so happy today, Eds?” You ask, nudging him with your elbow. He flashes you a big smile, pretzel bits showing along with his pearly whites. He looks adorable as ever.

“Well I’m glad you asked, sweetheart. I, Eddie Munson, have a date tonight,” he announces. Your heart does a summersault at the nickname, his nickname he always uses on you, before you fully process the second part of his statement, making your breathing stop for a moment. What the fuck?

You didn’t make this fact known, but you were crushing on Eddie…hard. The two of you have been close since your middle school days, having really connected with his band Corroded Coffin playing at the school talent show and approached them afterwards to share your appreciation. It’s been history ever since.

But it wasn’t until your freshman year of high school when you started crushing on Eddie. You had been having a hard time at home due to your parents divorce, and your father winning full custody meant you moved into the same trailer park Eddie and his Uncle Wayne lived in, the two of you growing closer than before now that you only lived a few doors down. You and Eddie would spend most of your nights together anyway, and one particular night your freshman year, you felt these butterflies flutter around in your stomach as your head rested against Eddie’s shoulder watching Sleepaway Camp, your and his favorite movie that you’d watch at least once a month together. Since that day you had kept your feelings hidden from him, not wanting to ruin things between you and your best friend. You thought the pain of not having him in your life at all outweighed the pain of being stuck in love with him, and that was a fight you’d be willing to battle.

“W-what? W-with who?” You ask, trying to cover up your slight stutter with a cough.

“Okay so you remember our latest show at the Hideout? Well with more and more people starting to show up as of recently, we’ve been getting some fans. And this girl, her name is Shirley, gave me her number and I thought ‘What the hell?’ and rang her up yesterday,” he explains to you and everyone at the table, the freshman not being able to help their curious little selves. 

“That’s cool Eds,” you reply back, trying with all your willpower to remain neutral and shove the emotions you were actually feeling down deep inside.

“Yeah. We’re actually hanging out after Hellfire. She even said she might swing by, she’s been curious about the game a little. At least, that’s what she told me,” he tells you, causing you to drop your fork and look at him. He shoots you a weird expression at your reaction.

“Oops, sorry. But uh, I thought you weren’t allowing non-members into the meetings anymore?” You ask, your eyebrow raised.

“That’s true, but, as Dungeon Master, I’ll make an exception this one time. Who knows, maybe she could become an honorary member. She’s really cool, Y/N. You’d get along with her great,” he tells you as he clasps his hand on your shoulder. 

“I seriously doubt it,” you mutter lowly, hoping your close proximity to Eddie didn’t allow him to hear. As if a saving grace occurred, the lunch bell rang and you jolted up from your seat, collecting your trash. You could see Eddie eyeing you from your peripheral. One thing there is about Eddie, he’s observant as hell. You’d usually applaud and commend it, but in cases where you were trying best to hide your feelings, you absolutely hated it. Sometimes you wondered how you were able to get away with him not knowing how you truly felt, but all the more relieved that he didn’t.

“Hey sweetheart? Is everything okay?” He asks you. You quickly turn to him with a slight smile and nod, before rushing towards the trash can that sat behind him.

“Yep, all good. Just gotta go tend to some newspaper stuff. I’ll see you at Hellfire!” Your words moving as fast as your legs as you bid the table goodbye until your meeting tonight, practically sprinting towards the newspaper room, where you’d spill your feelings to one Nancy Wheeler in your secluded gossip corner.

Nancy was one of the only people who knew about your crush on Eddie. The two of you have been super close since you started high school, and even more so with all the shit that’s happened with the Upside Down that started when the two of you were sophomores. Plus, with her brother now joining the Hellfire Club, she asked you to keep an eye on him, especially with everything that’s already happened in Hawkins, but you really didn’t blame her for that.

Stumbling down the hall with your backpack sliding off your shoulders, you open the doors to the newspaper room and see Nancy’s head pop up from her collaborating with Fred. You walk down the stairs calmly while giving her a pleading look, nodding your head towards the corner the two of you have your major discussions at. She gives you a small nod before returning to her conversation with Fred.

You unpack your bag and begin working a bit on the paper while you wait for Nancy. You were trying your best to remain calm, focussing on your breathing so you didn’t get worked up more than you were when you started talking with Nancy. Your mind had a habit of working against you, running a hundred miles a minute coming up with the absolute worst scenario of every situation you encountered. You didn’t need to be thinking doubtfully about your friendship with Eddie, but you physically couldn’t help it.

How could Eddie have a date with someone and not tell you sooner?

The two of you were best friends, he always told you when something great happens to him immediately after, and you do the same with him. Living just a few doors down, you had that luxury of always being near the person when you celebrate your wins, or comfort one another in your losses. So him keeping this from you until the next day? It definitely hurt, in more ways then one, and you didn’t quite understand it. Would you still be upset about it? Absolutely, so that bit didn’t matter much. You just wanted to know why. Why he’s choosing to date someone now, after being single for so long. Why he-

“Hey, I’m here. Sorry, I was working with Fred on the basketball story,” Nancy tells you, pulling you out of your zoned-out state.

“No worries,” you say, your voice residing somewhere distant. You feel a slight kick come from under the desk, prompting you to look down for a second, before bringing your eyes up to see Nancy, who shoots you a look of concern. Nancy too, was very observant, from what you’ve seen over your friendship the past three, nearly four, years. The people you surrounded yourself with the most were some of the most observant people in Hawkins, which was both a blessing and a curse. You sigh, turning slightly closer to her, ready to confess.

“Eddie has a date tonight,” you whisper softly. You watch her jaw open, as shocked as you were. At least, hoping in the same sense that you were, and not in a negative way. You never really knew about Nancy’s stance on Eddie, whether she liked him or not. The way you talk about him all the time you would think she’d be sick of it all, but never stopped you from spilling your secrets out to her.

“No way! With who?” She whisper-yells, scooting closer to you. You watch over her shoulder at Fred and some others looking your way, so you fake working on a spread, signaling Nancy to do the same.

“Some girl that came to their gig at the Hideout on Tuesday. I didn’t see it so it must’ve been when I went to the bathroom,” you continue to tell her while fake focusing on the piece of paper in front of you. Your entire demeanor suddenly became deflated, saying it aloud and hearing it from yourself. All becoming so real.

“That’s crazy. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“No, but what can I do about it? He and I aren’t dating, so I have no room to say who he can or can’t date,” you answer. You peak over at her and see her looking you dead in the eye, to which you couldn’t blame her. Even you didn’t believe what you were saying.

“Yeah, I know. He said she might stop by Hellfire, and, Nance, I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through the meeting tonight if she’s there,” you tell her. She reaches out and squeezes your hand and you give her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hey, if you think it’ll help, I can pick you up from Hellfire tonight and we can chill at my house for a sleepover. Junk food, distractions…I can even invite Robin and see if she’ll pick up some tapes after her shift at Family Video tonight,” Nancy suggests. You eyes widen in excitement and nod, truly needed a night where you don’t talk or think about Eddie. Just a night with your girls.

“That would honestly be the best, thank you Nance,” you tell her. She flashes a warm smile your way and scoots a bit away from you.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you and Mike up at 9 after I get Robin from her shift, if she’s free. It’ll be fun,” you tells you. You agree and continue working on your spread, excitement flowing through your body at the thought of a fun night ahead, even with the dread buried in the pit of your stomach at the thought seeing Eddie tonight at Hellfire with a woman at his side. A woman that wasn’t you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Running down the halls and towards the room behind the theater, you look at your watch and try to pick up the pace. You had lost track of time in your efforts in avoiding Eddie by doodling some drawings in the sketchbook that you kept on you at all times, which in turn made you late to Hellfire, something you never did. But in your defense, you usually had Eddie giving you a ride to and from the meetings. Today was not like the rest. Walking through the threshold of the meeting room, you give yourself a few moments to catch your breath.

“Sorry I’m late, I-“ you began to say, but were interrupted by giggling coming from Eddie’s throne. You see a girl with strappy heels and a short, short dress leaning against it playing with Eddie’s brunette fringey curls. That must be Shirley.

“Oh good, you’re here. We almost started without you,” Dustin exclaims, his goofy smile appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I doubt it,” you tell him, throwing your bag in the seat closest to him and ruffling his hair, him protesting and swatting at you in return. You notice out of the corner of your eye Eddie giving you a confused look, then looking towards your usual seat, which remained empty. It was no secret that you had your own seat in Hellfire, right next to the Dungeon Master himself, but today, you knew it was best to keep your distance. Didn’t want to interfere with his date and all. 

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Eddie pauses, giving you a look. You chose to just look at the table in front you to avoid eye contact. “Lets start.”

Dustin is the first to roll the dice, and everyone around watches as the campaign for the week begins. You try your best to pay attention to the game in front of you, but keep getting distracted by the amount of giggling coming from Eddie’s throne, due to himself and Shirley. They were acting like those couples you and Eddie would make fun of in the halls that were practically fucking in the halls of Hawkins High, and you’d always make fake sick sounds as you passed by them. Now that he’s acting those same people right in front of you and the rest of the club, you felt yourself growing sick, for real this time. 

You stood to the side as you watched Shirley climb in Eddie’s lap, draping herself all over him and her lips ghosting over his ears as she whispers little things in his ears, and the reactions he gives to her words make you want to punch a wall. Not in anger, but in jealous. The green eyed monster had awoken inside you, and you felt yourself getting riled up at the thought of them continuing this act throughout the rest of the meeting. The worst part of it all? You knew this isn’t where the night ended for them, and you could only imagine what other kinds of plans they had up their sleeves.

“Y/N, you’re up,” Mike whispers to you, snapping you out of your small jealousy-induced trance. You take the dice from Gareth and shake the dice in your cold hands a few times, before tossing them on the table.

6.

You didn’t have enough health to pull any big moves. No luck to play the hero tonight. You sigh and slump your shoulders as the rest of the group lets out an annoyed groan. You were completely off your game for the night and you knew with how observant the club was, they could tell. But luckily for you, they didn’t press you about any issues you may be having. 

“What’s your move, Lady Y/N?” Eddie asks you, his smug look making your skin crawl. Usually his dramatics during the game always wowed you and you’d join in, but it was hard to take in anything he was saying or doing with the leech that was attached to his hip.

“I…retreat,” you say, taking a step back from the table and Mike is quick to take the dice and roll for himself in order to save the campaign. You walk over to the seat you set your stuff in and take the sketchbook out you’d been busy with before the meeting and begin to draw.

“Do you know where the closest bathroom is, rockstar?” you hear Shirley ask. You mentally groan.

“Sure thing. Y/N, can you show her where it is?” Eddie asks, turning to you. You place your sketchbook back in your bag and stand from your chair. Flashing Eddie a fake smile, you nod and begin to walk towards the door, the sound of Shirley’s heels clicking behind you filling your ears.

The halls are quiet as you make your way to the bathroom around the corner. 

“So you and Eddie, you’re best friends right?” Shirley asks you as you continue your journey to the bathroom.

“Yep, since middle school,” you answer.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m gonna be honest, I was a little worried when Eddie told me he had a girl best friend. I always think guy girl friendships are weird and don’t last. They usually always end up dating in the end or ending the friendship because one likes the other, and the other doesn’t feel the same way. At least, that’s how I see them,” she rambles. You slowly nod and point out the bathroom, her thanking you and doing a fake little run inside.

Pressing your back against the wall outside the bathroom, you can’t help but think on the words she said, the thoughts of you and Eddie ending your friendship lingering and seeping into every fiber of your body. It’s the exact reason you kept your feelings deep down and hidden, but would that work out in the end? Are you putting yourself through the pain and heartache for nothing?

The bathroom doors opens once more and she comes out.

“Thanks for waiting for me. I’m really excited to hangout with Eddie after your club ends,” she tells you. 

“What exactly do you two have planned?” You ask, your curiosity getting the best of you. Part of you didn’t want to know, but your brain was screaming at you to find out.

“Nothing special. We’re gonna go back to his place and hangout, maybe smoke some. He also mentioned something about watching a movie…Sleepaway Camp? Have you heard of it?”

You froze.

Did she really just say that?

She stops and turns to you, giving you a look of concern. You felt the world around you starting to spin, the feelings from everything starting to come up.

“I-um, I’m sorry, but I-I’m not feeling too great right now. The theater’s in there, but I’m gonna go outside and get some air. C-Can you tell someone to bring my stuff out to me when everything ends?” You ask, your voice shaking as you lean against the wall for support. She gives you a nod and scurries inside the theater, leaving you to bolt out the doors of the school and towards the parking lot. 

You bent over and held onto the railing by the stairs that spilled out into the parking lot, convincing yourself you needed to wretch. The feelings clouding your brain were mixed, swirling together in a nasty mixture that you weren’t sure how you’d describe to Nancy and Robin. The feels of hate and sadness blurring the lines and becoming one as you stood outside, wishing you had your jacket to protect your from the harmful feelings and the cool March temperature. 

Sitting on the stairs with no luck on spewing your guts out, you let out a sigh and hug yourself in a pathetic attempt to warm up a bit. Your body grew cold rather easily, something that was always an issue, but the solution, or rather the two, were inside. You kept your jacket on you at all times, even despite the temperature being hot, because you never know when you might need it. In the event you forgot your jacket, Eddie would either lend you one of his, or just wrap himself around you, rubbing your arms with his big ring-clad hands to get you in a good place. You always welcomed that comfort. It felt nice being so close to him, even if he may not feel the same.

Your pity party is interrupted by a car pulling into the lot and parking right by the stairs. As the window rolls down, you see Robin pop her head out in a cheerful manner, but soon her features soften when she takes in your sour expression and sad body language. 

“What happened?” Nancy asks from the driver seat. You rise to your feet with a sigh and walk over to the car, leaning inside through the window.

“More like what didn’t happen,” you respond, shaking your head and shrugging. 

“Did that girl show up? Nancy filled me in on everything when she picked me up, so I have a ton of movie choices for tonight,” Robin rambles.

“Yeah she showed up. And they were being gross and lovey-dovey all night. Made me want to puke,” you explain. You feel Robin’s hand touch yours in an attempt to comfort you, to which you place your other hand on top of hers and give it a pat.

“And what prompted you to be out here instead of inside?” Nancy asks. 

“Well first off-“ you begin, but hear laughter coming from behind you as the school doors open. You turn and see everyone laughing and walking together, the meeting drawing to an end for the week and you let out a soft sigh. Everyone goes in different directions, with Jeff, Gareth, and Dustin going off in one direction, Eddie and Shirley going towards their van, and Lucas and Mike coming towards you guys. Mike nor Lucas had your bag in their hands, which made you worried that you’d have to go all weekend without your supplies and homework.

“Wait, Y/N, where’s your stuff?” Robin asks. You shrug your shoulders and turn to the side, Eddie standing by Nancy’s car. You see his unreadable demeanor comes closer to you, his eyes fixed on yours as he holds out your bag to you. Taking it, you sling it over your shoulder and slide over as he kept walking closer to the window you once hung out of.

“Wheeler, you might if I borrow Y/N for a sec before you take off?” He asks. You watch Nancy nod and Eddie leads you over away from her car, out of ear shot of both Nancy and that crew, and Shirley, who’s waiting at Eddie’s van. You both just look at each other for a moment, you not really knowing what to say.

“Thanks for grabbing my-“

“What’d I do?” He asks you, his voice sounding neutral. You look towards the ground and swing back and forth on your feet for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable excuse for your behavior today.

“Nothing,” you reply, your eyes glued to the ground.

“You can’t even look at me, Y/N,” he says, looking down to try and catch your eyes. You let out a huff and look back up at him, trying to get this conversation over with, which was something you never wished with Eddie.

“There’s nothing wrong, okay? I promise,” you tell him. Now it was his turn to huff, added with a kick to the ground. You could see that you’re irritating him, and if you were him, you’d be irritated as well. But today was not your day, you just needed time away from him and try to bury the feelings you had towards him even further down. Take the weekend and recoup. Not to mention, his date was merely a hundred feet away and waiting for him to go back to your place and watch a movie together. Your guys’ movie.

“Y/N, please, I know you better than anyone. Can you please ju-“

“Eds! Are we going soon?” Shirley yelled from the van.

Ouch.

She just used your signature nickname for him.

What else did they plan on taking from you today?

“Soon sweetheart, I promise,” Eddie yelled back.

Double ouch.

Now he was using your signature nickname.

“You know what Eddie, just go, she’s waiting on you. Have fun watching Sleepaway Camp,” you tell him. Shit, why’d you just say that.

Your mind was starting to think before your mouth, the feelings that have been brewing the entire day bubbling to the surface and taking over the part of your brain that had rational thinking. That green-eyed monster was started to show her true colors. You turn on your heel and begin to take off towards Nancy’s car, when you feel Eddie grasp your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait, Y/N, how’d you know we were watching Sleepaway Camp? Did she tell you that?” He asks. You sigh and shift towards him.

“Yeah, we talked in the hall. But it’s not big deal Eddie, just go,” you say, not understanding why he was so determined to make things right between the two of you right now? Yeah, the two of you hated leaving things in a bad place, but you never pressed him about anything he was super upset about or just didn’t feel like talking about, and usually he was the same with you. Maybe today was not destined to be in the cards for you after all.

“You’re jealous,” he says matter-of-factly. You scoff and cross your arms, trying to add another layer of defense between you and your fragile heart that was about to break loose with all these feelings. You were starting to lose your resolve, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I am not jealous!”

“You are totally jealous! Jealous that I’m spending time with someone, a girl, who isn’t you. Don’t worry, Y/N, you aren’t being replaced, I’ll always make time for you,” he tells you, thinking he’s helped, when really, it only hurt more. Like he thought he’d have to pencil you into his life.

“It’s not that Eds-“ you begin to say, but his laugh cuts you off.

“Then what is it then? You mad you don’t have a ride? Or-or-or upset that we’re watching Sleepaway Camp?” he pesters you. You could feel yourself getting really worked up and uncomfortable, wanting to just jet off to Nancy’s car and ride far away from this conversation.

“Oh wait, do you like me or something Is that it? Do you have a big ol’ crush on me?” He asks mockingly, making you freeze. “Just tell me what’s wrong Y/N, please.”

You hesitate.

Fuck.

You. Fucking. Hesitate.

“N-no, I don’t have a crush on you,” you say, brushing it off with a weak laugh. You see Eddie himself freeze, looking at you with a deadpan expression. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Wait, Y/N…you have a crush on me?” he asks. That was definitely an understatement. You swallow down a breath that wasn’t able to escape, your body beginning to shake in fear.

You see the way his entire demeanor changed when he realized. The dramatics you so desperately loved stopped all together, replacing it with a scared look. Scared that it’s true and he had to let you down? Scared that he didn’t feel the same way? Scared it was you, of all people? That familiar feeling of wanting to throw your guts up began to boil in the pit of your stomach, your chest tightening as you continued to stare Eddie down like a dear caught in headlights, the silence booming throughout the parking lot. You couldn’t handle this, not tonight. You’ve already had the shittiest day possible, you need to escape before you lose your best friend forever.

You take off in the opposite direction, towards Nancy’s car as you hear Eddie calling after you. The tears were brimming your eyelids, desperate to fall and let every emotion you’ve been bottling up all day to come out in a flood. You open the car door and hop inside, practically shoving Mike in the middle.

“Drive Nance,” you say, shooting them a pleading look.

“Wait, Y/N, what happened?” Robin asks.

“Nancy, can you please drive away, now,” your voice raising as you plead. Nancy responds by changing the gear and stomping her foot on the gas pedal, making your escape out of the parking lot and away from Eddie Munson, who you can see still standing in the empty lot watching you leave. You let out a shaky breath as you turn and face out the window, hot tears rolling down your cheeks and sobs racking your body as you all make the journey to the Wheeler’s house.

[iovelore]

❝ MORTAL TALES ❞ ( O1 )

summary and word count: a certain fae can’t help but find amusement in the youngest elfhame’s prince‘s frustration. wc — 1493

pairings: the cruel prince!cardan greenbriar x fem!reader

contents and warnings: jealousy, hinting of threesome, mentions of knife (nothing extreme), suggestive content, mutual pining-ish, fluffy?

a/n: i used tcp cardan because i couldn’t see any context of y/n being used in a fic in the other books (i also need it for the next part </3). i tried my best to include the tail bit since it didn‘t come out right, ill add it in either part 2/3. cardan is a bit ooc (i made him a bit idk how to put it besides: sub?man whore. because i believe that’s what he is 😁). and y/n resembles jude just a little bit with the blade thing, but only a little because jude is neither very flirty or open up about her sexuality (more so in the first book) and that’s what i made y/n like.

also, since this was more in y/n’s perspective, next part will be more so cardans <3

Y/N's legs crossed as she leaned her head on locke's shoulder, while Poppy, a half-faerie: who Locke has shown great interest in— for all the wrong reasons — sat before them and told them of the mortal tales her father would recite to her every night or the ones she gathered on her own from her adventures back where the humans lived.

Y/N found them odd: how they all were almost nothing compared to the people here; they were fragile, but she found similar enjoyment in them all nonetheless — and perhaps she had the eldest duarte to blame for her obsession with all things mortal, and Poppy's tales weren't helping either — which has unfortunately gained her the harsh scowls from the youngest prince of Elfhame.

Though that was no surprise. The boy had never been kind enough for her to realise that his treatment towards her was almost cruel — not that it had mattered, because to Y/N it was a show; she knew where his feelings lay, and it was nothing but amusing. To everyone with eye sight as clear as day, he'd never liked her, but when in class, when he believes her to be ignorant of his stare or his wagging tail; she has a classmate whisper every move his body makes, and it fuelled her heart all too much.

"It's not quite normal there, unlike here, if anyone decided to walk around with it they'd get humiliated till they're six feet under," Poppy snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her palms.

Locke turned to stare behind him, catching sight of the prince and Nicasia — both pouting miserably (one much too obvious than the other), and at that, he smiled. "Oh you’re right, tails are quite odd aren’t they? More so on a prince,"

Y/N shrugged at that, "It's alright, I do think Cardan makes it quite, charming? He’s always wagging it around like some...was it a cat you called it?"

"Yes a cat," Poppy shook her head positively, "though don't say that out loud, I doubt he's as clueless on mortal knowledge as we think he is."

Locke hummed, a smirk growing on his lips as he kept his eyes trained on his friend, Y/N following suite of his gaze and sultry grinning at the boy from afar, ignoring Nicasia — causing his eyes to widen momentarily, before the scowl found home on his face once more.

"He's never quite liked you has he?" His words were soft against her ear, his lips landing gently beneath her ear-lobes, kissing it tenderly as he kept his eyes trained on his flaring friend — who if one squinted, could perhaps see smoke escape his ears, if they ignored the immense swinging of his tail.

Y/N smiled, a small amount of malice lacing her intentions, "hatred I'd say, though he doesn't think I'm that foolish does he?"

Poppy, who now stared at her feet, hands tugging the grass with a blush coating her tanned features, "he's looked like he wanted to murder Locke."

Y/N snickered, a sickeningly sweet one at that, as she lowly muttered, "it’s all working then, sweetness."

Later on, when Y/N was left with no one to keep her company — as Locke found himself adorning Poppy and Nicasia's presence, alone — she took notice of the emptiness of Locke's home. It was beautiful, nothing as extravagant as Hollow Hall, yet she found herself admiring the interior all the same.

And as her hands traced the designs etched on the walls, as if it were a reminiscence of her first time staring upon them, a deep, and rather annoyed cough fleed her from her thoughts.

she stayed in position, her back facing Cardan and only gripping the knife resting on her waist, "now what would the prince need at a time like this? Should he not be in his humble abode by now?"

"Should you not be with your lover boy? Or is it that you enjoy using people like he does?" His tone was hostile as he spat his words, however the light softness that rippled around it was evident and Y/N couldn't help her lips tugging upwards.

She turned around, staring at him — where he leaned cooly against one of the walls — with squinted eyes, faux contempt present in her stare, and he shifted in his spot at her gaze.

She swiftly walked, her steps careful as to not trip on her dress. And when she reached him, she, boldly, placed her hands on his chest, dragging it downwards firmly — and his thumping heart beneath his rib cage could be faintly heard from the short proximity between them.

Y/N titled her head when he clenched his fists, but found a smile etching on her lips when his eyes were lightly fluttering. "Do I really threaten you that much that your hatred towards me is the only thing that keeps you going? It's pathetic truly, especially for a prince."

Cardan gulped, mind hazy at the contact and his body was supported by his tail, that was wrapped roughly around one of his legs. He could not utter the next words without stroking her ego, and it was then he'd wished — though he'd never admit out loud — that he were mortal, because he needed to lie if not keep his mouth shut.

More so with her trapping him, her knees coming forward and slightly spreading his legs, so that the entirety of his body leaned upon the wall. And despite him towering over her due to one of her legs bending in-front of the other, he could not move, catching sight of the shiny blade securely placed on her hips and her rigid grasp on them.

She had been around a certain mortal for too long, he thought, and at that his sneer was present again.

Y/N gently bit her tongue to stifle the giggle from escaping her, "what, cat's got your tongue?"

His lips were tightly sealed, and though he already knew the effects she displayed were affecting him, greatly, he refused to acknowledge her — especially that any movement could cause his legs to move slightly forward and brush . . .

She shook her head with a light hearted laugh that had his heart beating just a little bit faster, just a little bit. Her hands releasing the grip she had on her blade, before placing it on his cheek and patting him smoothly.

"You're quite humorous you know, would be a shame if you wasted all that energy on 'hating' me when it could be used for something else, you decide, my prince." she said, her tone sensual and low, before gradually stepping away allowing room (only a small amount at that) for the boy before her to breathe, she let one of her fingers crawl delicately on his hollow cheek bones, that though looked sharp, were as soft as anything could be.

Cardan's eyes widened ever so slightly, now registering her words, "are you flirting with me?" He asked. The space between them now slightly obvious, and he hated it — almost as much as he pretends to loathe her.

Y/N raised her brows, crossing her arms in an unlikely childish manner before nodding, "you're quite oblivious you know? Yes."

"Well," the confirmation enabled a smirk to appear on his face, only to be dismissed by her voice, again.

"Well? Is that all? Because I have things to do, and if my offer does not interest you then I'll gladly leave and find another willing volunteer," she purred, ignoring the way his brows harshly and quickly furrowed, creating a crease, "how about Locke? We are reasonably close, and he does not have a tail — which looks a bit foolish, don't you think?"

He was blushing crimson now, red sparklings littering his pale cheeks, but then his lips curled up — however, he does not look as frighting as he's expecting to be, he knew that, especially with her knees still resting between his thighs (which is all he's trying to drift his mind from at the moment).

"I don't see anything off with it, I've been told it makes one interesting. You've spent too much time with mortals and those alike." Cardan's jaw clenched and his chest was rising a lot more than it was a few minutes before.

Y/N pursed her lips, "Well then, show me how interesting one can get." She leaned forward, her breath fanning atop his lips and he found his own hitching.

His eyes were wandering from her eyes, which he secretly adored, to her lips, and he subconsciously nodded, leaning forward.

Only then, her hands rested on his chest, pushing him away slightly and his head came in contact with the wall yet again, and he had to bite his bottom lips in hopes that she had no idea how much he’d needed her, all of her.

Y/N stepped backwards, finally standing straight. Her hands on her side once more and she gave the prince an alluring smile, "I'll see you later, cardan."

He glared at the spot she had been standing in once she’d left, and he knew that it was a silly game she’s playing.

And what is a game if it involves one player?

[dodo-begone]

You a Pig Fucker?

Pairing: Yandere!Techno x Reader

Request: Hey I love your writing especially the yandere ones I was wondering if you could some yandere technoblade headcannons

Word Count: 2.1k words

Warning: yandere, unhealthy behaviors, Death, Zombies, Mentions of war, mentions of scars

A/n: sorry I made this into a fic but in bullet format. Hope you still enjoy!

Your first encounter with him is on the outskirts of your village. You’re collecting some flowers to make flower crowns for the children. And there he is; a gigantic… something standing on the path to your village. It was half pig, but half man all at the same time. It perplexed you. A thing like him hadn’t appeared at the village before, so he was a new experience to you. As the ever curious person you are, you go and investigate you. After talking to him for a bit, he tells you he’s there for some trading, you lead him to the village as you chit chat. You’re the first one to trust him.

He eventually just comes because he wants to visit you. For someone so naive and bubbly, you’re a refreshing presence from the chaos of the Dream smp. You wouldn’t survive a day outside your village, but he wished so badly to take you on an adventure to show you the world. Not the Dream smp, but the world outside your village. The safe part of the world.

He eventually just comes because he wants to visit you. For someone so naive and bubbly, you’re a refreshing presence from the chaos of the Dream smp. You wouldn’t survive a day outside your village, but he wished so badly to take you on an adventure to show you the world. Not the Dream smp, but the world outside your village. The safe part of the world.

He eventually just comes because he wants to visit you. For someone so naive and bubbly, you’re a refreshing presence from the chaos of the Dream smp. You wouldn’t survive a day outside your village, but he wished so badly to take you on an adventure to show you the world. Not the Dream smp, but the world outside your village. The safe part of the world.

Soon he’s called back to the Dream smp by an ally for some stupid fight that they could’ve done on their own. It was a quick task, why was Techno needed again? Though them being on his front door and trying to drag him away made him relent. And so he, begrudgingly, went to the Dream smp to destroy whatever government or enemy who dared offend or go against his friend/ally. He left without ever saying goodbye to you.

Without knowing what happened to Techno, you waited outside the village in your little flowerfield, waiting for Carl and Techno to make their way down the path to you. But they never come. At the beginning of your little “stake out”, the village children wait with you. Playing with each other and making little flower crowns with you while you scanned the horizon every other moment for your friends. Days passed like this, and about a week in, most of the children went back to playing in the village with each other. Some of the other, more mellow children, waited with you. Then the days turn to weeks, turn to months, and you give up actively waiting for him in the field. If he were coming back, he’d know where you are.

A little over a year passes before Techno can even properly get home. The other visits had only been little pit-stops to grab some supplies before hurrying back to the hustle and bustle of war. But no matter how much time passed, he never stopped thinking about you. How you must’ve missed him so much. Or worried for his safety. Just waiting at the village for him to come for you. And then you two could have such a nice life. He’d finally be in retirement. He hopes you weren’t angry at him.

So once he’s properly home, he hurries over to the village and frantically searches for you. Asking the villagers if you were still there and where you were. They’d all give a different location, but it was all in the village. He still had hope! When he does find you though, it isn’t pleasant.

You’re standing at the town center with most of the village children around you. Flower crowns were being crafted between y’all. It felt nostalgic. The first time he met you, you were making a flower crown for the kids. And you’re still doing it! It’s such a sweet sight, a domestic sight. He goes to walk over to you though, and a greeting forming on his lips.

But the children scream, looking at him in fear. Now hold up he knows he’s scary and doesn’t look the best, but he couldn’t have gotten that bad since he last came here. Right? The children alert you, and your panicked eyes meet his. There’s faint recognition in them, but you don’t acknowledge him.

He stops, and everyone scatters. Screams echo across the village, children run between adults towards their houses as the adults fumble around, trying to get their shops closed in the mayhem. Honestly he had no clue what was going on. You were shocked, frozen in place by his presence. Oh god please tell him the rumors of him spread here too-

One of the villagers goes and grabs you, dragging you back into one of the houses. You don’t look happy about that. If anything, it made you more panicked. Couldn’t that villager see what he was doing to you?? You’re getting hurt, scared by them. Let them go!

He charges toward you in an attempt to save you. But some of the older village men ran up to him with any weapon they could. Many had swords, which was an odd thing. When he came here many months ago, they barely had two swords for the entire village. And now almost everybody had one? Heh? What’s going on here?

They chase him out of town and into the woods a far distance away from the village. The audacity of them. Do they not remember who he is? Know who he is? He’s Technoblad, the blood god. Ring a bell? Yet they didn’t care when he tried to tell them who he was. Their parting words were a threat about him coming back to the village. On how’d they kill him and roast him in front of the entire village.

What the hell is their problem?

Later that day, you sneak out of the village to talk to him. You do your best to explain the mood change in the village since he left. Apparently a few weeks after he left, the village got attacked by a group of raiders. Which was bad in itself, but then some odd occurrences started to happen afterwards. There were zombie attacks on the village, which was only something told in stories from the elders. You had presumed they were little tales to get children to stay in line, but you were very mistaken. It wasn’t even a one time occurrence either! It happened almost every night. And other inhuman things came and attacked the village, taking out the far outskirts of the village. So anyone or anything that wasn’t a member of your village was an enemy.

A moment of silence followed your somber news. Techno’s coughing interrupted it though. And you asked what he had been up to since you last saw him. He began his tale about the most recent war he was involved in. Oh he even got a new scar! You were enamored by it, but noticeably less than before. The tale was told in such a nonchalant and humorous way, it was like child’s play. But you’ve now seen the horrors of death before your very eyes, the effects for warfare. So these tales were becoming less like fun little stories and more of the morbid accounts they actually were.

Once he was done explaining his adventures, he asked what you had been doing. Not just the village. You, as an individual, what have you been doing?

You tell of how life didn’t differ much. Visits to the meadow were still common, even with the danger. The children still followed you out too. They wanted to make flower crowns. But the other villagers were worried for the safety of you and the children, so you were sent with protection. One of the village boys went out with you every day along with the children. There was one limitation to everything though; you couldn’t stay out past sunset. That’s when these monsters appeared and attacked the village.

Then you nonchalantly mention how you really like the guy. It was someone you hadn’t really had a chance to talk to. He was the blacksmith’s son. A really strong guy, the silent type. You didn’t mind that, it just allowed you to chat more. To make up for his silence. And he said he really enjoyed it. And oh did you tell him that you got engaged to him? Yeah look, here’s the ring!! You hold up your hand, and on your left hand is a shiny ring.

His world falls apart. Wait, you were his. Why did you go to someone else while he was away? You kept babbling along about this guy, who he didn’t really care about. He felt betrayed. You didn’t wait for him… Why didn’t you wait? He’d always come back to you.

Sunset comes much sooner than either of you anticipated. You rush out a “goodbye” to Techno before you run back towards the village. At the entrance is some guy. He waves as you, and you run right into his arms. And you give him a kiss. You’re giggling as this shitty man swings you around. Hand-in-hand, you two walk off into the safety of the village.

Your peace couldn’t last forever. Techno would have made sure that your life was lived in luxury and yet you had this audacity to do this to him. To choose a nobody over him? He could provide for you! Give you all the attention you wanted! Even protect you. That guy probably can’t even lift a damn sword! Look he’ll show you that he’s the only choice.

During the nightly zombie siege, he walks in like he fucking owns the place. Some of the zombies attack him, but they go down in a small hit. They’re weak creatures compared to somebody like him. He stalks around the village, looking or any sign of you. The zombies are stronger than he thought or this village was much weaker than he originally thought. Now this? Another reason why you should just leave with him.

Your screams of terror echo across the village, and Techno frantically looks around for you. The zombies could attack such a defenseless thing like you. Come on where are you? Fortunately for Techno, you run right into him. You give him a tight hug around his waist, tears staining the fabric under your face. Some zombies are following you, but they’re very easy to take out.

He looks in the direction you came from though and saw the real issue. That fucking guy. Uh, Techno didn’t even want to refer to him by a name because he was that unimportant. He wasn’t going to be living much longer anyways. That guy you were with? Yeah he was surrounded by zombies, struggling to fight them off. But he did, so bravo for him. Though it was a pitiful job. Here, let Techno show you how it’s done.

He unlatches your arms from around him and walks toward this “fiance” of yours. The guy looks in your direction and runs towards you, yelling your name. Like you were in danger. You were in danger alright. In danger because of this fucking guy. He couldn’t keep you safe. See how easy it is to take him down?

He looks over at you for validation for his actions, but he sees absolute terror. And then he remembers what he did. Oh yeah, i guess skewering your sword through the body of your lover’s “lover” isn’t exactly a pleasant sight. But see? He’s such a better option! If this “fiance” were able to protect you, he’d be able to defend himself against Techno. Now come on, let’s go home.

And then you’re dragged away from your village and to the empty tundra. The last sight you get of your village is it falling under the zombie siege. Yells and screams emanate from the town. But the further you get from it, the quieter it gets. Until there’s no sound coming from the village anymore.

[honeyatsu]

Thru It All

Hinata Shoyo x f!Stripper Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE. LIKE, PRETTY PLEASE.

Summary: Life's a bitch. And then you die. That's how it goes. Anyone who can't adapt is a victim. And if it's one thing you're not, is a fucking victim. Not even when people are stupid enough to feel sorry for you. Not even when some idiot comes, playing knight and shinning armor, proposing to save you as if you ever asked to be. Because that's stupid. And thats exactly what Hinata Shoyo is...stupid.

WARNINGS FOR FIC IN GENERAL: this is kind of graphic, the most graphic kind of fic i've written. There's cheating, vulgar language. The reader is a sex worker (dancer). There's familial abuse, child abuse. Some may consider this dark content. Mentions of drugs, alcohol, depression. The Reader is kind of a scum bag. I'm pretty sure I got most of the warnings, but if I notice more I'll add them!

warnings for this part: Dark Content I guess (blackmailing.) cursing. NSFW implied. Cheating. Familial abuse. Child neglect. Sex work mentioned (stripping). Drug and alcohol use.

a/n: I'm not sure if I want to post this whole thing to tumblr b/c I don't know how dark I'm going to get. Here's the first part but the full fic will be crossposted here.

Masterlist

Everything up to this point has to be a joke — you’re convinced. Everything in this stupid little life proves nothing more than this whole thing being a stupid fucking game.

You realize this, as you’re sitting on a shiny swing set, in a neighborhood you could never imagine being in if it wasn’t for you chasing chaos the moment you wake up. When you’re chuckling to yourself, waving around the new iPhone some scumbag bought you — this scumbag. Showing a file of all the texts, videos, promises, made by the man standing before you, currently sitting his knees on the pile of dirt underneath, crying his eyes out. That ugly cry too, snot everywhere, hyperventilating when speaking, the ugly fucking facial expressions made to emphasize the mercy he begs you to have for him.

“Please, I…” He’s choking on his own spit, coughing up like he’s about to vomit all over himself, “I’m going to propose!”

“I’m going to propose.” You whine out, pouting your lips, batting your eye lashes, mimicking him as he’s comes closer to you, crawling to you. “Yeah, you weren’t crying like this when you were proposing to fuck me all these months. What, your baby was born two weeks ago and just tonight you thought you were gonna be inside me today! What was it you said, you wanted to fill me up this time?” You screech out, a sly grin forming on your face as he continues to choke out, babbling excuses to you. All you can do is laugh at him, that’s all your doing. Laughing so hard tears start falling from your face because he’s so fucking stupid, just like the rest of them.

You hop off the swing, crouching down to be leveled to him, grabbing his face, squishing his cheeks while propping his head up to look you in the eye. “I fucking told you, I want ten thousand. And it will all be gone — like it was never there. I don’t give a fuck about your ring, your girl, your stupid fucking family. If you want all this proof gone, pay up. I’m being generous.”

And he looks up at you, eyes glistening with tears, his cheeks rosy, bottom lip quivering looking into your eyes. You push him to down, causing him to fall on his back. You slowly crawl on top of him, humming as you lean down and lick on his neck. He lets out a breathy moan, still crying as you grind down on him — and then you feel what you were searching for, biting down on him hard as his dick grazes against you, smirking to yourself as you see the large purple mark form on his skin.

And then, you laugh. Hysterically, spitting on his face as you jump up. “Ha! You fucking perv! Cryin’ to me about proposing! You still wanna fuck me! Too bad, you’re bad in bed and your dick is fucking gross. I feel more bad that your bitch has to fuck you more than the fact that she’s gonna marry some scumbag boring investor, most interesting thing about you is you’re a cheater.”

He stares up into the sky, cursing at nothing, threatening to off himself if you don’t leave him alone, leave his family be, and move on with yourself.

He is screaming, you’re a narcissist, a psychopath, a stupid fucking slut.

All this does is cause you pain in your abdomen, not being able to contain your laughter and joy at how bad you’re breaking him, at how originally he thinks he’s being, as if you’re not a pro and know how this shit works.

They have fun with you, think they’re playing you. They think they can live a happy double life, their dotting wife at home, and then there’s you — young, sexy, passionate, telling them anything they want to hear to give them a fantasy. You build your case, they beg, they cry, they curse….and eventually, you’re paid.

And like clockwork, it works.

The same way it does every time.

Two days later, and you’re walking home from the bank. With more than you would have realized, holding a stack of twenty thousand in the envelope — he offered more in exchange for all the proof you had. He wanted the texts, he wanted the pictures, he wanted the at home porn that you wouldn’t even consider selling with how fucking ugly you thought they were, but if he was willing to add an extra ten grand on his trash dick, who were you to stop him. If he wanted to get off on the bitch who threatened to ruin his life like a masochist, it wasn’t your problem.

Just like his wife getting a mysterious email with the password of his private folder on his phone wasn’t your problem.

That was mean, even for you, but after learning how he got off to being a piece of shit, you figured you’d give him one last hurrah before you part ways, before you change numbers and delete the texting app you had on your phone.

Was a bummer for you though, you really wanted to experience his reaction.

I guess, it is kind of mean. But is it really? It’s not your fault that the men who shouldn’t want you do. You don’t ask for these married men with kids, with dull boring picture perfect lives to bother you. And it’s not your fault they always have money, if they want to throw everything they have away, who are you to stop him? You’re not some higher up entity that controls peoples morals, you’re not some cop or priest, you don’t owe anyone anything. It’s not your problem, it’s theirs. Once you learned some perks came with it, then well, it’s on them.

Not you.

You figure this money is so good you wouldn’t have to work for a month, two if you’re feeling ballsy. You got enough for rent, food, enough to fuck around and do whatever you want. You almost want to sing on the walk home, like a Disney princess who just discovered she can summon birds or some shit.

Your apartment building is a waste of space.

They could build something better here, prettier, something to help the community, something to help the economy of this piece of shit neighborhood they’ve been trying to gentrify for ages. If it was nicer, people would want to take care of it more, people would actually want to live here. The only set back? Just something small, the people who can already barley afford to live here has to go, with no help offered though — because we’re all adults. It’s not their problem.

Nothing is ever anyones problem.

Especially not for a community with people who need to work multiple jobs to make ends meet. Especially not for moms who had to bring their kid to work because they couldn’t afford a babysitter — let alone a daycare. Not for people who might do not-so traditional jobs and give the landlords something extra in order to keep their mouth shut. Or the families with absent parents where their oldest child miss out on their childhood to do a job they never asked for. Not for those who have no real contribute to society, not anything other than just taking up space.

Not for people like you.

It’s a harsh reality you face, one you have faced since it was possible for you to perceive consciousness. Didn’t bother you then, sure as hell didn’t bother you now. Not when you’ve done so much for yourself, it’s not a lot but it sure as hell is more than anyone else has done for you. You either adapt or become a victim, and if it’s one thing you aren’t, it’s a god damn victim.

Whenever you get home, the building always smells wet. It smells damp and you swear they don’t take out the garbage the days they’re supposed to, because the smells still lingers a few days after garbage day — sometime even weeks, either they don’t do that, or these cheap fucks that drain your money can’t even afford air fresheners.

When you step in, the clerk isn’t there, they never are. There’s a puddle on the left corner — close to the mailboxes, from the leak coming from the second floor. The dusty bucket that’s filled is placed on the side, out of the way to not over fill. (Which is fucking stupid in itself, because why move the bucket just to let it fall on the ground in the first place if you were worried about it over leaking anyways.) These sleazy bastards are lucky they at least have a rusty brown wet floor sign, being able to avoid a law suit from those who would even bother trying.

With these thin walls, you can hear everything. You can hear when someone brings someone over, you can hear the argument after because they weren’t supposed to. You can hear any business transaction occurring and praying they don’t catch you listening so you’re not caught up in any weird shit going on. You can hear the wives falling to the ground, claiming they fell as if you didn’t hear a slap to the fact at the same time — the city probably would benefit from getting rid of a shitty place like this.

When you walk up those steps, those creaky steps that screech so loud it makes your presence known, the kid from next door jumps without looking up, still sitting in the corner, his head ducked down, red cap covering his eyes. He’s clutching that same action figure (it’s Spiderman, by the way) you see every other day, it’s missing an arm and it’s all scratched up, but he holds it like it’s the shiniest thing in the world.

Your eyes shift when you hear a bang, the door vibrating along with it. The kid, Hikaru, doesn’t even flinch. And it doesn’t surprise you, because he’s use to this. It’s the same thing, every day, — in reality, he’s lucky if he gets a day off from whatever that was.

You crouch down, tilting his cap up. He looks up at you, his glossy eyes finally revealing themselves, his lips in a straight line. He mutters out a sheepish hi, and then looks back down to avoid your gaze.

You notice his ears, covered by his shaggy hair, how empty they were. “What happened to the AirPods I gave you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, still not looking towards you. “Dunno. One day I had it. Then I lost it.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a ’tch.’ Because this little shit is a smart ass — just like you were. “C’mon. Wanna play mortal combat?” You ask, getting up.

He follows along, slowly wrapping his hand around yours.

There’s this arcade, a train ride away. It’s not in the best neighborhood, nor is it the worst. Somewhere in-between, it’s comfortable compared to what you know he’s used to.

Hikaru is a great kid, when you get passed him being a sarcastic little shit. Yeah, it’s a vulgar thing to say about kid, but it’s true, he is. The first time you met him, you asked him about that same little figure he’s been clutching in his hand for the past two years. He called you old, said you wouldn’t recognize it (Spiderman has been around forever, and you weren’t even that old. Of course you know who fucking Spiderman is.) The first thing he calls you is old and it’s expected to not call him a little shit, because society says so? No, he knows who he is. And so did you, you spend almost every day with him. Any day you see him, sitting down in the corner of your floor, sometimes at the top of the steps, feet dangling at the time, because he was tiny.

You always said hi, told him to go inside, and the kid says to mind your business. Can you believe that? You go out your way to make conversation and the kid basically tells you to fuck off, in a little kid way. You don’t know why, but you don’t stop. There’s this one day, before you leave your apartment to go to work, you see him sitting in the same spot since the morning. For some reason, you still don’t know why, you bring him a bowl of instant ramen, sitting down and eating it with him. He tells you it’s his first meal, because his parents were busy.

Yeah, busy shouting about someone fucking someone, someone needing to bring more money, something about the kid, you hear it all. You figure (if it wasn’t already obvious) that’s why he’s always out, clutching that little toy he won’t get rid of. And it’s always that one specifically, never anything else.

Not even when you go out your way to buy him new ones. He tells you he likes them, he does. He plays with them and keeps them in his room neat, he brags how his room is the cleanest in the whole place — (you don’t know how clean that is, because you can smell the stench of his apartment outside of his door. It can be shut, and you can still smell it. Gross, right? Instead of worrying who’s fucking who, you wish you could knock on the door, loud and inconsiderate, like them, you wanna tell them to feed their kid and invest in some bleach. Do the whole floor a favor.) — and as much as he likes his new, shiny toys, that he keeps neatly tucked away, his figure is special. His Spiderman isn’t just any Spiderman, it’s the one his grandma gave him. He tells you that she promises to get him a new one next time she see’s him, after her trip.

That was two years ago. He hasn’t seen her since, not even a phone call. You don’t know if he knows where she’s gone, you don’t want to ask. It’s not your problem, and there’s no use for creating questions that probably don’t have answers, especially not one an eight year old can comprehend.

Somewhere between the one-sided hello’s, eating that shit instant ramen, and getting him toys, you find yourself making sure he actually goes to school, doing his homework, helping with what you could (did math change every year? This shit is stupid). Did Hikaru need money for the book fair? How much are they? You give him whatever you have in your wallet. The school lunch sucks? You stop by the corner store, giving him something you figure would be okay for a kid, putting it in a brown paper bag. Some kid bother him? You tell him, as long as he’s not bigger than you, all you say is “your mother” and walk away.

And now you’re here — playing pretend at the nice arcade, not the shiniest machine or newest prize toys, but it’s enough for you two. It’s fun, the games you play. His favorite is air hockey, because he keeps beating you (you let him). You buy him ice-cream before you buy an actual meal, because that rule is stupid. If the kid says he wants ice cream, why not just give it. It’s not like you’re his mom, even what you look like to others, the game of pretend you’re currently playing. You wouldn’t say you seem like a mom, maybe not even an older sister. A step sister at most.

When you’re walking up to the stand, the prize stand, Hikaru enthusiastically tightens his grip around your wrist — you ignore the feeling of the stickiness, if it was anyone else you’d shout, probably curse them out, but he’s a kid. You’ll tell him about hygiene later, to wash his gross little hands before touching anything, especially after eating ice cream.

When you get to where he finally wants to go, you’re at the corner. Y’know, that corner where all those big prizes are. The ones worth thousands of tickets, the ‘cheapest’ one probably being some weird specific number, like 850, y’know one of those numbers the owner pulls out of their ass. Hikaru points to a ball, 975 tickets, for a fucking ball. It’s a basket basket ball, but you can easily get one at any sports store, or even a department store for cheaper. You stare at the slip in your hand, the one you got from those machines that let you know how many tickets you’ve one in the card you use for the games. 115 tickets.

You see how he’s looking at it, like he has stars in his eyes, like that ball was the ball, like it was the only thing worth looking at here. “Since when were you into sports? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you pick up a ball.”

“At gym, we started doing sports. Now during recess, that’s all everyone does. I’m not good. If I practice at home, maybe they’ll ask me to play.”

Your pouting, because for some reason, ever since you met the kid, anything that comes out of his mouth sounds like the beginning of some sad movie, or book, whichever one makes people cry the most. You don’t think he does it on purpose, or even realizes it, it’s just who he is at this point.

Before you promise to play again, to get more tickets, to get this stupid basket ball, your phone dings.

It’s your manager, and you’re late to work.

Shit.

You take his hand, and start heading out. You promise you’ll be back. And you hope he trusts you. He’s the first person you’ve actually kept promises for. You would hope he at least trusts you by now.

This shift was a slow one. When you walk in, there’s hollering about everyones favorite girl there, along with some looks from fellow dancers that aren’t exactly on your team. The DJ shouts your stage name into the mic, announcing your arrival, thanking you for finally showing up after missing three sets. He promises a good shot to make up for your tardiness, if they tip nicely maybe you’ll take the top off early. It earns a glare from you before you step into the dressing room, flicking off your manager for cursing you, threatening your place at work.

News flash, he threatens you at least once a week, but you make too much money here. You have the most regulars, convince people to not only buy drinks, but the food too, and get the most VIP’s. You know they won’t fire you, they need you. (You need them too, but you won’t admit that.)

One, two, three shots in, you’ve missed two stages and have been scrolling on your phone, trying to find new cute dance outfits. The house mom is laughing with you, or at you, you can’t tell anymore, but she’s okay company regardless. The liquor isn’t hitting and you’re agitated, bored, you don’t want to be here. But you’re so bored. And there are barley any customers, but….you’re so damn bored. And sober. Maybe you can talk to those young guys sitting right in front of the stage. They look young, excited, probably their first time here. Younger men are easy when they’re drunk, and you can get them drunk, offer some mediocre lap dances, dance at their section of the stage. That’s rent right there. But you can’t be sober, or else your bored expression would be obvious, your fake laugh too plastic, probably sounding like screeching in their ears at their jokes that are led with their dicks.

You can’t be sober.

And the coke is right there, in the bottom of your bag. You’ve been cutting back, you told yourself you didn’t need it. But sometimes you do, you really do. You’re here at work. And bored. You need money, but you can’t make it if you’re bored and don’t want to be here. So you need it now. Yeah, now is a good time.

But then, here comes Satsuki — well here, she’s Sakura. The bubbly, cute, almost like a Disney princess, very popular with the clients who like that whole cute girl thing, you know those girls who remind you of like a deer or whatever. She’s cute, Sakura is cute. Well, when she’s not taking away your drugs. Now she’s not cute, she’s annoying. And you tell her, but she just laughs her melodic laugh and sits besides you, snatching the bag from your hand and putting it back in your bag.

“This is better than this.” She says, smiling while taking her phone from her money bag. You groan in response, because nothing is better than coke. Nothing. “My cousin’s friends are throwing a party. It’s a big one in a pent house, like with a view.” Yeah, especially not this.

You open your mouth, no words come about because you can’t find a nice way to tell her to fuck off and give you your drugs back. She just giggles again, shoving your shoulder with her own and shoves her phone in your face, showing you a group of boys. They look athletic, probably trainers, or coaches or whatever the fuck, why should you care about them?

“MSBY Black Jackals. They’re gonna be there, most of them anyways, I’m sure of it.”

You say, sitting back, slouching — impatient, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Girl, look at them. They’re all hot. And rich. When you meet them, you don’t wanna be coked out. Or gross. Me and some of the other girls are going, you should come with. Please!”

You sigh, focusing on the screen. Yeah, they’re cute, you guess. It’s not really looks you really look for in men, in fact you don’t really look for anything other than being stupid really. When she said rich that perked your ears up a bit, but you can’t say you were interested still.

There’s one in particular your eyes continue to scan over, Satsuki (Sakura) notices, chuckling to herself. “That’s Miya Atsumu. I don’t know what spot he plays, I don’t know about the sport. I met him a few times with my cousin. You’d like him.”

You smirk to yourself. You don’t care about sports, barley care about them. It’s been a while since you had any fun though. You step up, hearing your name being called, this time with a threat.

Before you leave you turn to her, snickering at her hopeful eyes at you.

“Yeah, count me in.”

next (?)

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

���There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams – was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

-----------------------------------

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[feminaexlux]

Fall to Me

TBH I realize belatedly after writing this that Truth was fomenting chaos in my soul and it needed to be taken the fuck out with a proverbial shotgun

Anyway here's a fic that was based off of Truth and without knowledge of the rest of S4 so far, just in case nothing makes sense

I also know I promised smangst (smut + angst) but I got tired/lazy and @mintaka14 posted something I felt was eerily similar (or just reminded me I needed to get this done) so I wanted to get this out the door

Read on AO3 here!

Rated M for language I guess?

⁂

Luka was in a precarious situation. He was lying half-naked on Marinette's chaise, with Marinette herself lying half-naked on him. She let out a quiet sleepy giggle when she brushed her thigh against his raging hard-on, still unfortunately trapped under his over-tight jeans. His neck felt sore where she'd bitten him and he figured there'd be a pretty obvious bruise there soon.

His chest was also similarly marked.

He woke up like this. He had woken up when he had needed to sneeze because some hair got all up in his face. He then realized he had a whole-ass person on top of him. And that person was the girl he had been in love with for years. He had gently brushed away her hair and she had hummed out a "Mmmm, Luuuuka," that got him hot-and-bothered and unable to go back to sleep. He kinda didn't want to wake her in fear of this whole precarious situation blowing up in his face.

⁂

This all started a week ago with Dingo, that fucker. Well, sort of. Maybe. Maybe that was all circumstantial. But Dingo had 2 extra tickets to The Bondsmiths and Ding had given them to Luka. Juleka was busy with stuff, his Ma wasn't into this newfangled noise, Ivan wouldn't go without Mylene, Mylene was in Spain on vacation, Rose was "stuff," and if Dingo was involved most of Luka's other friends wouldn't be.

He'd just thrown it out into a group chat "Hey I have an extra ticket anyone want to come?" and Marinette was the one that said "me~!" Luka and Dingo had a tense stare off when Dingo handed over the tickets.

Her? Dingo's sharp brown eyes seemed to say.

Luka stared back coolly. Yes. We're friends.

Dingo fucking smirked. How much longer, eh? Cheers, mate. He gave the tickets to Luka with a smarmy wink.

The night of the showing Luka got stuck being the designated driver. He was used to it. The concert area was indoors and packed. Ding almost got shitfaced and Brielle had to keep him from falling over. At least the sets were fantastic. When the concert was closing at around 02:34 Ding and Brielle were having sloppy disgusting make-outs, making both Luka and Marinette ever so slightly uncomfortable.

That was when it all started getting weird. Weirder.

Brielle came up for air and told Luka that she and Ding would take a cab back, so all Luka would need to do was drop off Marinette. Luka shrugged and did just that, but Marinette invited him up to crash at her place because it was already so late and he looked so tired. He was about to pass on that when Marinette mentioned that her parents were on vacation in China and wouldn't be back for a whole month, just… out of the blue.

Before he could formulate any sort of coherent response she took his hand and pulled him up the stairs to the living room, sat him on the couch, started brewing some chamomile tea for the both of them, and talked about the concert. Marinette smiled at him after handing him a mug and short-circuited his brain again. "That was fun!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed," Luka smiled back, sipping his tea.

She sat down next to him and brushed her hair back over her ear. A shiny black earring seemed to glimmer with the light it caught. "I'm really glad I was able to go with you."

His head was empty except for noticing the light blush she had on her cheeks. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes, and somehow Luka got the sense that she was… expecting something? Oh, a response, duh. "Same. It's always nice to hang out with you."

She smiled, drank the rest of her tea and set it aside. "Luka, can I kiss you?"

… What? Wow, alright he was tired. He thought he heard her ask him if she could kiss him. He was already in the half-asleep pseudo-dream state and probably imagined that whole thing. Goddamn he was such a simp for her. "Heh," he said noncommittally.

Marinette blinked at him. "Is that a… a no?"

"Hmm?"

She scooted closer to him and he took a big gulp of his tea to hide his nervousness. "You… don't want me to kiss you?"

Oh God he heard that correctly. He sputtered and coughed, covering his mouth with a fist. "Wh-what?" He blushed hard.

She blushed as well. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I-I-I thought… um."

Several years ago they had tried to date but she'd always been… unavailable. So they kept hanging out as friends, which was… fine. It was fine. They'd never even gotten to really do anything together as a couple but as friends? It went better.

He wasn't over her. Never tried to convince himself he was. But he also honestly hadn't expected her to want to get back together. So… what changed? She sighed heavily, her complexion calming back down. "Nothing changed. Not really." She looked down toward the floor at her feet and he finally realized he asked that last thought out loud. "I… maybe I guess I did." She looked back up at him. "I've been thinking lately that I just want… to do something for me, for once. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" She trailed off and stared back at the floor.

"I've never stopped wanting to be with you." Oh shit he said it. She looked back up at him and he awkwardly took another swallow of tea and looked away. "Sounds bad. I guess it is," he said eventually.

"But you didn't tell me?"

He met her eyes. "You were happy. You were with Adrien. I can't force my feelings on you."

She took a breath and let it out slowly. "I was, yeah." Her words hung in the air.

Luka hadn't figured out what happened to break up the state of Adrienette, but when he came back from touring with Jagged, Marinette and Adrien were "just friends" again. Luka wasn't sure how long ago the split happened and after 2 or 3 years apart did he even know Marinette anymore?

She had welcomed him back to Paris as a more grown up Marinette, not actually so different than he had remembered her. She had more confidence, less anxiety, a spine of steel. She was in charge of herself and it was so good to see her so sure.

He didn't want to mess that up for her in any way. So they remained friends for 2 more years. And for one reason or another they both kept being single.

He had somehow reintegrated back in her inner circle of friends. Luka saw for himself that Marinette and Adrien had a lot of history in their little in-jokes and double talk, dropping code phrases and making each other laugh at random. Maybe they'd reignite that spark and Luka didn't want to be caught in the resulting blaze. Even if they didn't, underneath it all he worried about being disappointed and left in the dark by Marinette like he'd been all those years ago.

Not that it did anything to change his attraction to her. He was a sucker for girls like her, except there had only ever been the one.

Marinette took his free hand and squeezed it gently. "I was happy, yes. And… I was hoping I could be again. With you?"

⁂

Slowly, Marinette thought, take it slow. She did spring this on him a little suddenly but hey, it felt right, and she had it on relatively good authority that it was time. At this point in her life she knew to trust her gut instinct and friendly advice. Although she felt more okay with this because her head was sliiightly impaired right now.

She also thought that he'd jump on… her, she supposed, given the opportunity - but he was uncharacteristically reserved. Was it uncharacteristic? Maybe not. He'd always been pretty laid back and easy going.

And observant.

Which meant he was thinking and had doubts about them. Well, shit. Okay. She didn't make it easy on them the last time they tried anything like this. Actually, Hawkmoth had made life difficult for her so there hadn't even been an opportunity for a them.

He sighed softly and squeezed her hand back. "I want… this. I do. But there's still something that worries me."

Alright, fuck going slow. "I'm Ladybug. I am now and I was then. That's why I kept disappearing." This was alright, it was kind of an open secret by this point in her superhero career. Her parents knew, her closest friends knew, and Luka was a close friend she wanted even closer, so he should know.

His mouth was slightly open and his eyebrows shot up. "Ah."

"Things are… okay now, aren't they? I'm not needed like I was before."

He smiled a little and his worried expression softened, understanding. "That… does explain a lot of things but that's not the only thing I was worried about."

That surprised Marinette. And actually now she started to worry herself. What other red flags had she given him? Shit. She'd been a basket case in her earlier teens but she'd left behind the Teenage Angst Things and graduated to Adult Things, hadn't she? Fuck.

He chuckled. "It's not --all-- a you thing, this is a me thing," he said.

"Oh please don't give me the 'It's not you it's me' talk when we haven't started anything," Marinette interrupted.

He snorted, putting down his empty tea mug on the table. "Yeah, I still want to give you some context," he continued. "First off, I'm not like Dad, I don't want to be a big rock star with all that baggage. I just wanna play music and do small gigs and have fun. I'm not gonna be rolling in money and I can't give you everything that you'd possibly want."

Marinette blinked. "I… already knew that?"

"Second, if you do want to 'start' things I promise you I'm not just going to let you go again."

Marinette bit back a smile. "Alright. Are we entering some kind of agreement here? Is this a pre-nup?" She stuck her tongue out at him.

"We're already getting married?" He laughed.

"Not if you don't want to kiss me!" He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Soft, warm, simple. Real.

She placed her hands on his face and brought him in for another kiss, stopping him from pulling back all the way. "More," she breathed out.

⁂

"More?" Luka thought. It was… an odd ask but okay… He was sort of interested in more as well so why not? Except well, there were a few things clarified but he really meant to talk about things in detail before diving into… her mouth like he just did. Her fingers worked their way through his hair, her nails skimming across his scalp sending shivers down his spine. She gave back as much as she was receiving from him in their make-out and if he had to taste only one thing for the remainder of his life he'd want it to be her: sweet, warming, with notes of chamomile, bourbon, vodka, and rum.

This was getting a little too indulgent but most of him didn't mind. One part of him craved this from her, but… wait, shit. Bourbon? Vodka? Rum? She'd been drinking, dumbass. Shit. "Mm--" He tried to say her name to get her attention, maybe slow them down a bit -- okay, a lot -- but she had just leaned back on the couch and he was pulled down with her still relentlessly kissing him. "Mar--" he tried again, but she took that opportunity to take his bottom lip gently between her teeth. One of her hands went to his hips and she grabbed a belt loop and hooked a finger under his jeans, tugging him closer.

Oh boy.

He broke free from her a little reluctantly. "Hold on," he chuckled nervously after pulling back. "Wait a sec."

Her eyes went wide open and she froze. She pulled back her hands and stuttered out a "W-was that bad? S-Sorry! Oh I'm so--"

He pressed two fingers to her lips to stop the torrent of apologies. Apparently the penchant of apologizing for everything wouldn't change about Marinette even if she'd been drinking. "Marinette, you had a few drinks. I don't… I don't think…" He sighed, sitting back up.

"I only had 3?" Marinette squeaked.

"4. You finished off Brielle's."

"I-I think I'm pretty sober?"

"But you're not sure."

"I'm… sober enough, aren't I?"

"I'm not confident making that call."

"But I… I want this," Marinette said quietly but firmly. "I really want this."

The thought that kept mentally slapping Luka across the face was But will you still want this in the morning? Well. He had to be honest with himself. It was really Will you still want me in the morning?

Her knowing the general trajectory of his life and joking about marriage aside, she hadn't said anything about wanting him. Wanting a "this" and wanting to be happy again, sure. Having him along for the ride, sure. But actually wanting him and all he was? Still unclear.

And even if she said she wanted him, would he believe her? She'd been 14, yes, but she said she wanted to date and… never actually followed through, Ladybug duties aside. He sighed to himself. She hadn't been ready. That wasn't her fault. She couldn't tell him then.

But that time of being left behind didn't magically evaporate with an explanation.

He didn't think he was bitter or resentful but all of that was hitting him full-force now. Not again, his head warned him. Not again. You don't have to deal with that. And yeah, he didn't have to deal with that... Sometimes a heartbreak was worth braving.

He needed some time to think about if this was worth braving.

He felt Marinette shuffling at his side but he didn't give in to the temptation to look. He stared down at his hands, his elbows propped on his knees as he slumped forward.

"Can… Can I hear what you're thinking?" Marinette asked softly. There was a little bit of uncertainty in her voice. He didn't say anything for several heartbeats. "Luka?"

Well, at least she didn't call him Adrien. That was a plus. God that'd been once and it still left an awful taste in his mouth. "You should probably head to bed. We can talk later." Later. There was always later. Except he was tired of later. It'd been better when he didn't have to tell himself he could wait. It'd been better when he hadn't had anything to wait for.

Easier. Not better. He had to give her that.

"No," she said. "I'd like to talk now if that's alright. I'd like to… understand." Right, she was better at standing her ground. She wasn't 14 anymore. He wasn't 16 and naïvely hopeful anymore.

He probably wasn't going to sleep anyway. "I don't know how to trust you."

⁂

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Marinette felt the all too familiar cold panic settling on her shoulders like it always did. Of course he didn't trust her, she wouldn't trust herself fully now with how things played out back then. She was definitely getting a headache.

Fucking Cockmoth. Fucking Guardianship. Fucking… Adr--no, she made her peace with Adrien. They were past that now. Fucking… obligations and wrangling all those threads in her life to hold together. Marinette figured she was done with all that, but…

At the epicenter of all of these problems was her. She had to admit, it wasn't her fault but it became her responsibility to treat those around her as fairly as she could. And she hadn't been fair with Luka.

God, she spent hours staring at pictures of Adrien and drooling over every damn appearance. When she tried to get past the crush the whole universe was conspiring to push her to indulge it instead. And worst yet, she did indulge it while trying to date Luka! This was… she should have seen it coming. Who in their right mind wouldn't be at least a little bit wary of her intense obsession over Adrien in her formative years influencing her now? It defined who she was for a long time.

But she was different now, she grew up. She just needed to show it, right?

Wait. There was something about the way he said what he said. "You don't know how to trust me?" He nodded. "Do… do you at all?"

"Mostly." Okay, so there was still a tiny sliver of a chance? "I trust you with almost everything."

"Except?"

"Except me." He paused for a moment. "And you've been drinking."

But! But I… Yeah. "Okay." Her being slightly impaired did make things a little complicated. And maybe that was the reason why she was being a bit impulsive right now, the alcohol was fast-forwarding her decision making process. Marinette let out a breath she held in. "Will you stay here tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow but relented with a "Yeah."

"Come upstairs with me?"

He raised the other eyebrow as well, looking nervous. "Upstairs? To your room?"

"Yes, I wanted to--" It took a second but it clicked. What she asked didn't sound any less impulsive with how he probably interpreted that. "Oh I'm not going to seduce you or anything I just was thinking it'd be nicer for you if you were using my daybed instead of the couch here but I guess it could sound a little like I'm asking for sex which I'm not. I mean unless you consider making-out se--okay nevermind!" Wow, way to go, Marinette. Her face was burning with embarrassment. "I'll bring down a blanket!"

Okay, she had to admit it, she was definitely more than a little tipsy. She felt lightheaded when she stood up quickly. She tried to hide her disorientation as best she could as she walked away, heading toward the ladder leading up to the hatch. She'd been so focused on seeming not-drunk that she bonked her head at the top climbing up. "Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" Luka asked, and even tipsy Marinette could hear the puzzled amusement in his voice.

"I'm fine," Marinette muttered. She forced open the entry and it slammed open on the other side with a loud thunk. Fuck, she wasn't at all convincing him that she was sober. She slipped off her shoes and sat back down on her chaise/daybed, feeling incredibly embarrassed at herself. This was not at all going the way she hoped. He still felt betrayed at the things that happened when she was an idiot teenager. Should she have known? He never told her!

But he never told her because he never thought they'd get back together. That was obvious in the way he said all the things he said.

He did want to be with her. He did want her. But he'd been so hurt by what happened and… she never knew. No, of course she knew, he was akumatized by it. He'd carried that for so long and let her live her life without her knowing. Damn it, she needed to… she needed to make this right.

How could she make this right?

She was unsurprised as she felt the cool streaks of tears falling down her cheeks. In the morning, they'll talk. Ignoring the fact that it was already morning, she knew they both just needed to put this aside and get some rest for now. She heard shuffling and Luka making his way up the ladder. She quickly wiped her eyes.

"Hey, you doing okay?" He had a clear look of concern on his face, kneeling down in front of her. "Is your head hurting?"

"Oh no, sorry, I just spaced out."

"You hit your head that hard?" Luka asked, sounding even more concerned.

"No, no. I-I was… My head's fine, Luka." She sighed. "Just. Thinking, is all. Sorry, let me get the blanket."

He looked up at her a bit more keenly. "You've been crying." A simple statement.

"Yeah," Marinette said quietly, defeatedly. "But I'm okay." She pasted on a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She started getting up but he caught her attention and spoke with some hesitation.

"I don't need the blanket. I'm probably not going to sleep," he said with a half smile, sitting down on the floor in front of her. "Too much going on here," he tapped against his temple. "I'm guessing the same for you?"

"Yeah again," she said, smiling for real this time. "Can we keep talking?"

"We can. I thought it'd be better if you got some rest but sleep isn't coming for either of us anyway." The lights in her room were muted but she could see the bags forming under his eyes. He passed his hands over his chin, lightly scratching at the stubble coming in.

"I was really kind of… no, not kind of. I was awful when we dated before."

"You weren't awful. You just weren't there. I understand that you had Paris to save," he added quickly when she had furrowed her eyebrows. "But the fact remains that I wasn't able to spend any time with you. Juleka kept telling me to watch out and that you dated me only because Adrien wasn't available to date anymore. I was hoping you'd change your mind and you would want to be with me, but then you were making time for him and your other friends while I was left waiting. I'm a human being, Marinette, not a doormat. You forgot about me. It was miserable and I felt like shit. I almost regretted asking you out at all."

⁂

Ah, fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. There were none of his usual filters. He just spewed all that out there. It was all true but maybe he should've let it go? She was young and dumb, anyone at that age was capable of making stupid-ass mistakes. Luka himself made soooo many of them. It'd been like 5 years since their breakup, maybe he should just get over it already. Marinette was in his arms literal minutes ago and he had to go and get like this. And he made her cry again. Nice one, Couffaine.

This was the worst sort of crying. She went absolutely still with a solemn expression, being oppressively silent while the tears fell from her eyes. He felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed. "I--" he cut himself off.

Marinette nodded her head so slightly Luka almost didn't see the motion. "I didn't make time for you," she agreed, her voice tiny and broken.

He suddenly wanted to make a quip about knowing all about time and giving Second Chances to let them both recover but that would be disingenuous and corny as hell. He wasn't so sure he believed in them much anymore. And maybe the way this played out was better anyway, at the very least he needed to own what he said as he couldn't take back his words.

Marinette broke the silence. "I… I wasn't very happy with myself back then. I did make a lot of bad decisions. I didn't give you… much of anything I guess."

He smiled a little. "I still have that pendant."

"I could have given you more. I could have been doing so much more. And I didn't. I didn't," she repeated, a hitch in her voice.

Fuck. He could meet her halfway at least. "It sounded like you had a lot to deal with. You knew your friends better so it makes a lot of sense that you'd prefer to hang out with them. I was just some guy. The brother of a friend. I wasn't that important in the long run."

"Don't say that," Marinette cringed a little. She wrapped her arms around herself. "You were--are important. I was… I was scared. Of a lot of things. A lot of stupid things." She shivered slightly. "I was a little scared of disappointing you. I was scared that maybe I had used you to… make me feel better about myself. I was scared that you'd never see all of me. I was scared that Hawkmoth would use you against me and your family and Paris if you knew I was Ladybug and it happened anyway without you knowing about me. I was so stupid back then."

He sighed. "Hey, please don't beat yourself up. I didn't want to make you feel like you have to explain what happened in the past. I got too… wrapped up in how I felt back then. We didn't work out and that's just life." It hadn't been their time.

Did he still love her? Sure. But they'd been better off as friends. She even made a point of trying to hang out with him nowadays. She told him everything that was on her mind. She gave him small gifts here and there, made it to all of his gigs, invited him to all of her fashion showings. They saw the movies and concerts they wanted to see together. When she felt lost or sad he was the first one she reached out to.

As… friends?

There was this uncomfortable feeling tugging at the back of his mind. He felt it at the base of his skull, a slow dawning realization. But… he almost didn't want to acknowledge it as it could have been just some phantom hope that she would love him like he sometimes dreamed. It was way too easy to get lost in some fantasy.

Maybe he was just scared himself. Scared of being ghosted again if he picked up this hope and tried to make it real. In a roundabout way he was saying that, at least.

Okay. Time to bite the bullet. He leaned forward and put his hand on her elbow. "I know we're hanging out a lot more now. I'm sincerely enjoying all the times we get to do stuff together. I'm grateful that you're giving me all that." This is it. Just say it out loud. "I'm saying that if we want to be more than friends, I'm scared that you're going to leave me again."

Whew. Was that so bad? Actually yeah it was terrifying.

There was a grimace on Marinette's face. "I… I-I understand," she said weakly. "I understand why you'd be afraid of that. But I don't know how to prove to you that I won't?"

It felt like the world shifted, the same as the first time he ever saw her. That earlier hope was coiling around his heart, making it beat faster. "You won't?"

She kept looking pained. "J-Just so you know I t-totally get it if you wanna stay friends or… or something, but I-I want… I know I messed up and I get pretty crazy sometimes so maybe you don't want anything to do with me after this and it's completely your right to do that--"

"Hold on," Luka interrupted her, half anxious and half this is so Marinette. "I'm not--" She put her fingers to his lips to quiet him.

"B-But I have to ask if you could give me a second chance?"

⁂

Marinette pulled her head back a bit and got annoyed at herself. "Sorry, that wasn't supposed to be a pun. O-On your… history as Viperion."

Great, so not only had she made an ass of herself but she just unintentionally punned at Luka. Marinette intensely disliked when Chat had made those inappropriately annoying puns whenever moments were tense. She seemingly picked up the habit, ugh.

Luka laughed and the tension was cut a bit. Maybe Adrien wasn't so wrong to have joked all the time. Luka took her hand into his and pressed his face against her palm. "Alright, alright," he breathed out. Instantly Marinette's heart started beating faster. "I just wanted you to hear me out. You do hear me, right?"

Marinette nodded. "I hear you." There was a slightly rough and tickling sensation under her finger tips as she was able to feel some of his 5-o'clock-shadow (except what was it now, 4am?). Funny, she didn't notice that so much when she'd been kissing him.

"Then you should know that even though I've been scared, I could never stop hoping you'd warm back up to me." He gently folded her hand in his and smiled up at her. "Do you want to go out to dinner with me? We don't have to get married along the way."

"W-Well, yes to dinner, or maybe breakfast? But I mean," Marinette said, attempting for casual but probably still coming across nervous. "Don't throw that whole marriage idea out yet. I'm still not sure how to… prove things?"

He smiled. "Spend some quality time with me. That's all. It doesn't have to be big."

"Okay, breakfast and dinner. And lunch, too." She wanted to spend all the time she could with him. He wasn't asking for much -- to be honest he never asked for much, and this was something she wanted to give.

Luka smiled, probably thinking she was joking. "Think you can get some rest now?" He asked. "I can head back downstairs--"

"No! No, no, I mean, stay here with me. I-If you want."

"You're not trying to seduce me, are you?" He grinned.

"Well, I can," Marinette grinned back. "Can I?"

He seemed a little surprised by that. "Uh," he blushed.

How cute, he got flustered. Capitalizing on that, Marinette leaned forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders, her forehead against his. "I'd really like to," she whispered.

"How... inebriated are you?"

She sighed. "Do you really think I'd be having a coherent conversation with you if I was drunk?"

"You tell me, Ladybug."

"Luka Couffaine, you are a gentleman but I'm merely... warm and not even buzzed anymore. I would definitely still like to seduce you."

He blinked a few times. "Oh." He paused again, thinking it through. He gave a little laugh. "I'd really like that too."

[writing-in-april]

Dog Person

Javier Peña x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After Javier mentions being a dog person it gets Reader thinking

A/N: Hey everyone here’s my third fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This is my first non smut fic for Javier the idea came to me while I was rewatching the show recently- I tried to make it fluffy but still in character for him I hope it works out 🤞 Thanks for all the support so far on all of the fics I’ve released for the event- I’d like to hear your opinions on them if you want to drop an ask here- or really anything!! I’ll answer almost everything- plus my requests are open as well! Hope y’all enjoy 😊

Warnings: Typical talk that’s in the show- no outright conversation about the drug trade but references to Escobar, coke, etc... plus one or two references to sex and sex work

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

“I’m more of a dog person myself.” On any other day, at any other place, and if anyone else had said it wouldn’t be much to read into. The fact that it was your colleague, Javier Peña, made your ears perk up instantly. You were now no longer staring a deep hole into your coffee while you took a short break. Your break only consisted of around 5 minutes even though it was supposed to be your lunch break, plus the full mundane paperwork had killed your appetite anyway. You’d be hungrier if there was an actual lead on Escobar.

Your coffee was no longer holding your attention, firmly focused on whatever Steve and Javier had been conversing about. They had been talking about the unfortunate fate of Steve and Connie’s cat again. Apparently Connie was thinking about getting another companion, despite the tragic end of her other one. Just from hearing Steve recount Connie’s words you could tell she was suffering from loneliness, you’d have to bring your own over to visit her sometime soon.

You glanced down at your watch, groaning internally when you saw the time. You hadn’t even eaten anything yet, not that you had the appetite for it though. Break over, back to work unfortunately.

All of us had had a rough day, really a rough couple of nights. You had all been slaving over mountains of paperwork trying to find a trail that you could follow that may potentially lead to Escobar. Unfortunately for all three of you, you had all come up with zilch.

You wondered how tired your own eyes looked as you watched Javier slam his fingers down on the typewriter’s keys. His eyes were slightly puffy, surrounded by a perpetual ring of darkness that made itself permanent on any DEA agents face after the first week of transferring down here. You were new to the DEA down here, transferring from New York when the hunt for Escobar got even more dire. Your partners hadn’t gotten a chance to know you yet, Steve was almost as new as you. Yet you already had that perpetual ring of darkness around your eyes as well, being shiny and new dulled quickly in a job like this.

Despite the tiredness you still admired Javier’s eyes, his deep chocolate irises being the one place that he had a hard time hiding emotion. And, you could tell just by his eyes that he needed something to cheer him up- maybe something different to his usual leisurely activities.

That made a lightbulb flick on in your brain, thinking back to the conversation that had piqued your interest.You’d have to introduce him to a friend of yours sometime soon.

—

Sometime soon ended up being the next day after you had all gone home and gotten some rest. It was nice to have a day off for once, which normally would have you far away from your coworkers, trying in vain to cleanse yourself from work.

Javier was different though, although you enjoyed Steve as a partner Javier made you immensely intrigued. For some reason you oddly yearned to see him crack a rare smile, or just see him relaxed more so than usual. It was not like you smiled a lot or relaxed either, but you wanted to do so around Javier.

You stood in front of his door with the friend next to you trying to talk yourself into knocking on the door. Maybe he was asleep or maybe he had someone over- or maybe he’d hate your suggestion and just slam the door in your face.

Eventually after what was probably around five minutes of staring at the wall and door you talked yourself into knocking.

You rapped three quick knocks onto his door, only a minuscule moment passing before your impatience took over and you began tapping your foot.

When he finally opened your door you were greeted with a shirtless Javier only clad in jeans. Normally that would make you assume he had someone over to have fun with someone, but you didn’t hear anything through your shared walls, which was also an indicator for you.

You made sure not to linger your gaze for more than a fraction of a second on his bare bronzed torso, snapping your gaze up to his eyes.

“There’s someone who’d like to meet you, Javier.” The someone that you were about to introduce to Javier was off to the right in the hallway, just out of his view from where he was standing in the door frame. He leaned out a little to take a peak, but you moved more in front of the door frame to further block his view. You wanted him to be in suspense as to who it was before you brought out your little surprise,“If you’re willing, of course.”

“Sure.” His tone was gruff as you expected and was laced with a hint of possible irritation. You never knew why he let you get away with stuff when most people would have gotten the door slammed in their face.

You moved your right hand a little gently tugging the leash that was around your wrist to nudge your companion closer to the entrance. He happily scampered forward, ready to bask in the attention.

Javier’s head tilted downwards once he proceeded that the ‘someone’ was a lot smaller than he was expecting. Standing proudly on four feet was your black lab, wagging his tail with vigor. He always got ecstatic whenever he was about to meet someone new- not dogs though, other dogs were prime targets for his obscenely loud bark.

A faint flicker of a smile inched its way onto Javier’s face no matter how hard he tried to stop it. A smile of your own crept it’s way onto your own face when you saw a little crack in the walls he had built up. It was nice to see him happy, if only marginally. “You mentioned you were a dog person earlier today, so I thought you might like to meet mine.”

He coughed a little, clearing his throat, perhaps floundering to find a response. Instead of immediately answering you he squatted down so he was sitting on his knees, eye level with your dog. Your dog’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, panting with excitement ready for whatever Javier had in store for him.

A look of contentment and relaxation washed over his face when Javier brought his hand up to begin to scratch and massage his ears. Of course Javier also had brought his hand up to his nose first to get him to trust him before going in.

You dropped down on your knees as well to lavish your puppy with even more attention, you couldn’t help it. He was too cute to not want to pet him 24/7. In doing so you had loosened your hold on the leash a bit which caused him to slip away from you and run all the way into Javier’s apartment.

You were about to apologize, your dog now quickly making a home on Javier’s couch. But, he beat you to it by saying with still a gruff voice that now had a little bit more joy in it, “Thanks for introducing me to him- I um, kind of needed it, hermosa.” He looked back for a second at your dog curled up on the couch before asking you something that set off butterflies in your stomach, “Would you like to come in and join us?”

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All Pedro Pascal Characters:

Javier Peña/Narcos: @pascalesque

[xmyshya]

Congratulations p.2

summary: His assumptions hurt you both. Is there still a chance for you? genre: angst, fluff (happy ending) warnings: car accident, poor writing betas: @miki-snake​ special thanks: Miki for giving me ideas on how to continue. This wouldn’t be finished without you! a/n: Part 2 to my first ever fic. Click here for part 1. wc: 2.4k

It was driving him insane. She was driving him insane. YOU were driving him insane. But it wasn’t your fault, no. He put himself into it, and he knew it. That’s what made it even more unbearable. But he already made a promise, he couldn’t back down. So now he was sitting during his lunch break with a girl he exchanged you for. Just because he didn’t want to assume things, but also because he DID assume things.

For the first time in his life, his own observational skills failed him. This is exactly why he didn’t trust his little voice telling him you were not okay. He hoped that glint disappearing from your eyes was just his imagination, because you were still smiling so beautifully. That your voice wasn’t cracking every time you spoke, as if you needed a second to adjust and calm yourself. How could he make things right again, how could he…

“Are you listening to me?” Ah, right, he wasn’t alone. “You haven’t even touched your food, want me to feed you? Open wide and say aaaah.”

“Sorry, I’m just not hungry.” He answered after staring blankly at her.

“Hmm? Okay, so like I said....”

He rubbed the top of his nose. Her neverending blabbering almost melted with the background noise. It’s not like he hated her, didn’t even dislike. She was just a part of the crowd, one of many that never understood his jokes, never showed interest in his passions (and also didn’t have any he could get interested in), always looking for acknowledgement of everyone around. So unlike you. You, you, YOU.

-----------------------------

You spent most of the lunch breaks outside lately. Somehow the sight of that girl sitting at the same table as Kuroo, looking at him with her glowy eyes and glued smile was unbearable. Ever since that evening being in the same room as them felt suffocating. You didn’t know why. Actually, you did but still tried to push it in the darkest part of your mind. You can’t think that way, not anymore.

You sighed and packed your half-eaten lunch, making your way towards the classroom. Seeing her figure in the hall already caused your body to relax a little. You couldn’t help but think that she was everything you were not. Tiny, cute, with shiny hair, dark eyes, always wearing some kind of make-up, popular. FEMININE. A perfect girl for Kuroo, as you tried to tell yourself for the past few weeks.

-----------------------------

This longing was unfamiliar, but he had a feeling it would be a frequent guest in his chest. He hasn’t noticed how he was staring at the door until you appeared in it. When your eyes met and you smiled at him… he could swear his heart clenched. This was too much, more than he could handle. And judging by your sparkless eyes, you weren’t feeling any better.

-----------------------------

You didn’t expect Kuroo to look in your direction. What you expected even less was that you looked at him. At his eyes, to be exact. His beautiful eyes that remained golden, even though the whole world around you was reduced to monochrome. This realisation made you smile uncontrollably, despite having another creep in… that they weren’t supposed to be looking at you.

-----------------------------

By the time he packed his stuff and looked at your desk, you were already gone. Instead, another female was standing beside him, happily chirping about going home together.

“Sorry, I can’t do this.” He found himself mumbling, not entirely aware he did out loud.

“What did you just say?”

She didn’t seem sad or hurt, no. She seemed annoyed. Mad. As if her little plan was just ruined.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore. Sorry.” He repeated, this time louder, more firmly.

He watched her storm out of the classroom until Yaku patted him on his shoulder.

“Congrats on growing some balls, Rooster”.

-----------------------------

You kind of felt proud at how you mastered sneaking out of the classroom lately. If you did that quietly enough, no one would notice, and no one would accompany you. It was only you and a colourless city, bathed in a colourless sunshine, filled with muffled sounds.

That’s why you didn’t even notice reaching an intersection until you were on it. Or more precisely, until you heard someone shouting your name. You turned to check who this voice belonged to, but stopped halfway locking your eyes with a car, muscles tensing as if preparing for the impact.

-----------------------------

Kuroo ran out of the school premises and saw you from a distance. You were far, but with his long legs and athletic ability, it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up with you. He was getting considerably closer, and felt relieved when lights signaled stopping… BUT YOU DIDN’T.

He didn’t remember ever running that fast, in his whole life, but it was still not enough, there was no way he would reach you in time. Just like there was no chance of the vehicle halting, despite brakes pushed to the floor. If only he left earlier, if only he ran faster, if only he… he could have saved you.

-----------------------------

The only thing you saw after opening your eyes was his face. His ebony black hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes darkened to caramel shade and filled with tears. His sleeve trying to absorb some of it as he rubbed it against his nose. You wanted to wipe them away with your hand, but you couldn’t move it. You could only stare.

Next time you opened your eyes he was gone. You must have made a sound, because right after opening your mouth Kuroo reappeared in your sight. He was saying something to you, but you couldn’t hear. The ringing in your ears was successfully blocking everything else. You saw him reaching his hand out and brushing hair out of your face, and then it all turned black.

-----------------------------

-----------------------------

Everything hurts. There’s a steady beeping noise somewhere near your head. Or at least you think it’s near your head. You’re trying to open your eyes, but the sharp light burns into your irises. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth, and the first try to say something ends in a coughing fit.

Someone squeezes your hand, but you’re too blinded by the lights to see who it is. A moment later a straw is gently pushed in between your lips, and you suck on it. Water never tasted that good. You only manage to whisper a weak “thank you” before falling back to sleep.

-----------------------------

Suspended between dreams and reality, you hear voices. Voices that can’t be louder than whispers, and they’re not aimed at you, but sound as if they’re calling you nonetheless. This time there’s no sharp light threatening to burn your eyeballs, and instead, you’re greeted with a dimmed sunlight. Must be an evening or at least late afternoon then. You turn your head in the other direction, and whispers suddenly stop. Owners of the voices look at you timidly and then at each other with anger.

“You woke her up, you moron!” One of them whisper-shouted.

“Me?! Are you fucking kidding me?! I wasn’t the only one blabbing!” Hissed the other. He was also the first one to approach you and take your hand into his. “H-how are you… feeling?”

“Uhh… dizzy? Confused… and tired.” You mumbled, painkillers still dulling you a little.

“Why… why’s he here?” You whisper to your brother sitting right next to you, pointing at Kuroo with just your eyes.

“Oh, don’t think about it now, you need to rest. But just know that he was here every day, and he was the one who saved you, pretty much.” His hand now stroking your hair. “You can relax now, it’s all gonna be okay.”

-----------------------------

It feels good to be back in your room, and to have Kuroo beside you. Even if all he did was tutor you about the things you missed. Luckily most of the damage was caused by shock, and not actual impact, so you were released quickly. Still, you were advised to stay home for some more time, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

And if that was the reason why you were currently alone in your room with your neighbour… no reason to complain. You still haven’t asked him about what happened then, you couldn’t find the courage to. Not when he has so much worry in his eyes, and not when he is getting uneasy every time you give as much as a grimace.

“You know, you don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.” He freezes. There’s a shadow creeping on his face. “I won’t shatter, I promise”.

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

-----------------------------

Your brother was hesitant about your request to go back to school. Most of the accident consequences were gone now, and Kuroo also managed to catch up with his tutoring. There was absolutely no reason not to. He glances at you the whole way from the gate of your house, you pretend you don’t notice. It goes well for most of the day, you’re able to focus, only suffering from a mild headache sometime before the last period. Until you hear THAT, at least.

“It’s all your fault, you bitch!”

You look up and squint. Oh, it’s her. Right when you managed to forget she existed.

“Could you please leave me alone?”

Headache now worsening due to a slight rise of stress in your system.

“Everything was perfectly fine! Until you jumped in front of that car, and snapped him from me!”

You want to ask her about it, but she’s already gone. Maybe you should have listened to your brother. You also don’t see her interact with Kuroo ever again, except for glowering, but you don’t mention it.

-----------------------------

He wanted to talk to you. He really did. But every time he was about to call your name, it got stuck in his throat. After all he had put you through, was he worthy of saying it? Of being close to you? It was all his fault. If only he had paid more attention, he would have known you would reject Bokuto.

If he had been more courageous, he wouldn’t have distanced himself after the festival. If he had run faster, he would have caught you in time. No, he wasn’t worthy. He promised himself he would watch over you from the sidelines, making sure you were always safe, but never putting you at risk of hurting you again.

-----------------------------

You tried to reach out to him. You really did. But every time you tried to approach him, he walked away to talk to one of the friends he spotted. Every time you looked at him, he averted his eyes from you. He came up with last minute excuses, when Bokuto asked both of you to hang out. He did respond to your texts, but his replies were short, emotionless, forced.

So, after some time, you stopped trying. Only sending him a weak, polite smile, as you passed him in the halls, in the streets, on the stairs of your house when he visited your brother. Each one of those smiles feeling like a knife pushed deeper and deeper into your heart.

-----------------------------

He was relieved, grateful almost, when you stopped chasing after him. Each time he heard your voice, felt your presence, heard someone mention you… was piercing his heart like a million needles. Each text from you brought tears to his eyes, and darkness to his chest. So when it all stopped, he hoped he would find some peace. Yet somehow, each one of your dutiful smiles pained him even more.

-----------------------------

Days were much brighter and warmer. Not really surprising, it was the end of May after all. You were being pulled by your brother through the streets of the very lively city, towards the place where the crowd concentrated. He had insisted you wore a yukata, as a way to bid farewell to your teenage years, and welcome supposedly adult university life. He was telling you to hurry, that you’d be late, but these geta shoes definitely weren’t comfortable. Luckily, it wasn’t very far from your home.

You noticed Bokuto from afar, his huge stature towering over the crowd and salt-and-pepper-like hair making it hard not to. As you approached him, he pulled you in a tight hug, his whisper “glad you made it” drowned out by the noise. You glanced over his shoulder, noticing the boy he brought with him. Judging by his expression he was forced to come too and had no idea you’d be here.

“Ah! Taiyaki!” You exclaimed as your face lit up.

It was one of your favourite festival foods. Kuroo tried to grab you before you ran, but he was too late. Again. And again his mind was invaded with a whirlwind of thoughts. You could be swept away by the crowd. You could hurt your feet. You could faint. You could be approached by some suspicious people. Or you could be back safely, a wide smile adorning your features, as you bit into the fish’ head.

Late in the evening, your feet started to remind you how much you had walked in the past few hours. Trying to find a spot to sit and rest, you didn’t even notice that you separated from the group. Not until you turned around to say something to your brother, but you only saw Kuroo settling next to you.

“Where’s everybody?”

“Huh? Right behind…” His eyes opened wide with shock.

There was nobody behind him. It was just you and him, for the first time in a long while. You used to feel comfortable around him, comfortable enough to just sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder. But now it was deafening, making your mind spiraling, lungs short of breath. You desperately needed to say something, anything… and then the first round of fireworks shot.

“Did you know that fireworks are red thanks to strontium salts?”

His heart skipped a beat when he looked at you. At your relaxed face, astonished eyes, gentlest of smiles. Of course he knew, but hearing it from you made it magical. Your voice made it magical.

“And they’re green because of barium compounds, blue due to copper and…”

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You were so beautiful when you turned your head to look directly at him, cheek sliding into his palm, colours dancing on your skin. Tetsurou couldn't help himself. Not when his heart was overflowing with so much love he had tried to suppress for so long. So when he leant in and kissed you, none of you knew if the fireworks were shooting in the sky or in your hearts.

“Congratulations!” Bokuto and your brother shouted, as your lips parted.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

**

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.    

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.  

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.  

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”  

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.  

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.  

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.  

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.  

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

[writer1]

A regretful Wolf and his Beauty

Chapter Ten

Beast!Rex x Fem!reader

Summary: As punishment for his actions, young prince Rex was cursed to become a monster by a witch. The only thing that saved him from his fate was an enchantress, who gave him a condition. He has to find true love in order to redeem himself and he only has until the last petal of the enchanted rose falls. Rex's family helps you by guiding your way into his heart. Rex's fate now lies in your hands.

A/N: This is a collaborative fic with @ahsokatano-thetogruta.

Warnings: Sickness, weakness, mention of injury.

Rex leans against the counter, thinking about what he did. He feels so bad, he knows what he did was so wrong, he was just so desperate that he didn’t think about the consequence of what he said to you. “Hey?” Rex looks down to see Cody nudge his leg, he sighs. 

“I was such an idiot to say that to her Cody, I… I didn’t even think about her taking it seriously, I really am a monster.” Cody’s heart breaks and he sighs. “You are not a monster Rex, you made a mistake, we all do. She's okay, we figured it out soon enough. She’s eating right now.” Rex nods, feeling better to know that you’re eating.

“Rex!!!” Rex and Cody turn to see Fives and Echo run in, they look worried. “What’s wrong!! Did she do something to you!!!” Rex asks in fear, but the two shake their heads.

“We went into her room when she didn't collect her food. She's asleep right now and she doesn't look well at all.” Fives explains, making the guilt stab right through Rex's heart. “We think she's feeling a little sick from not eating for the past few days.” Echo adds.

At that moment, Kix and Jesse had flown in “Is everything alright?” Jesse asks them, seeing how guilty Rex looks. “Well, we found out earlier that the girl hasn't eaten anything since she arrived. Now she isn't feeling too well. Fives and Echo have just told us.”

Kix's eyes widen. “What?! Where is she now?” He turns to the twins. “She's in her room right now, sleeping. She looks pale too.” Fives explains.

Kix thinks that finding out how you haven't had food yet isn't important, all that matters is making sure you are okay and not too poorly. “Right, could you take me to her room, please? I need to make sure that her health hasn't faltered too much.” The twins nod as they lead the way out of the kitchen. 

Cody decides to follow them, but before he leaves the kitchen, he realizes that Rex isn't following them. “Rex'ika, are you coming with us?” Rex just shakes his head as his ears press back against his head, whining a little. “She won't want a monster like me to be around her…”

“It's okay. It's not all your fault that this happened, we should have checked on her too, but after what happened to Echo we were scared.” Cody shuffles closer to Rex. “But it can be different now, we can help her.” Rex looks at his older brother, knowing that what he's saying is right and then nods his head. 

“Okay, I'll go with you.” Rex follows Cody to the others who are on the way to your room. Rex and everyone walks into your room to see you laying in your bed, your armor is on and you’re curled up in a fetal position. Rex feels worry filling him at the sight of you.

“Is she okay, Kix?” Rex turns to see Jesse climbing up on Cody, his face that Kix drew on him has an expression of worry. None of them know how Jesse can animate his face so that it makes any expression and his mouth can move when he talks, but it does.

Kix flies up to you, looking you over, you are really pale and none of them know how you can sleep in your armor. You let out a tiny, raspy cough, Rex hears how sickly it sounds. “ I don’t think that this is because of her not eating, at least, not fully.” Rex doesn’t like the sound of that, at least before they knew how to fix it.

“So what should we do, Kix?” Cody asks, he’s really worried about you. Kix sighed, turning to Rex. ”I need you to come feel her forehead, Rex.”

Rex’s ears press against the back. “I don’t think that she would want me to touch her.” Rex tells him, but Kix just huffs. “Tough, none of us can feel the temperature right, I need to know if she has a fever. And my thermometer is downstairs and it will waste time to get it!” Rex sighs, but he listens to Kix and walks over to you.

Rex presses his hand softly against your forehead. He can feel the sweat wet his fur but what’s worse is the heat radiating off of you. “She’s burning hot Kix, she definitely has a fever.”

Kix hums, he knows what’s wrong with you now. “I’m almost positive that she has the flu, she was looking for her father in the cold, and probably rain, I’ll have to ask her how long when she wakes up, the dungeon probably didn’t help either, plus not eating. Can anyone explain why she wasn’t eating?” Rex rubs the back of his neck.

“I… When she first got here, I told her that if she doesn’t eat with me… that she wouldn’t eat at all.” Kix and Jesse's eyes widen. “Rex… Why would you say that?” Rex’s ears press against his head again.

“I… I don’t know, Jesse. I was mad at her attitude towards me and how rude she was being that I just said it, then I forgot about it and assumed that she was eating at night.” Rex looks down, Fives hops over and rubs Rex’s leg with his candle. 

Kix sighs. “Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. Now I’m going to need some help getting her armor off.” Rex is the only one out of all of them who knows how to take the armour off because Anakin has shown him how before.“I can.” His hands are shaking a little with nerves, but he does the best that he can to keep them steady. 

The position that you're in is going to make it difficult to take your armour off, so he gently picks you up slightly to move you flat onto your back. He removes the gauntlets first, followed by the biceps and shoulders. He moves onto the breastplate, unclipping the straps and then sits you up to slide the backplate from underneath you. He places the pieces of armour on top of Cody for now. Next is the bottom half of the armour. He takes off your boots carefully and then the armour protecting your shins, knees and thighs, carefully unclipping each one. Placing the last bits of armour with the rest on Cody, he sighs with relief.

“Thank you, Rex. Would you be able to get some cold water in a bowl along with a cloth, please? To help bring down her temperature.” Rex nods at Kix, walking into the connected refresher to your room. While he fills up the small bowl, he hears shuffling about in the bedroom. Rex grabs a cloth, soaking it in the water, and then walks back out. 

“Where's Cody?” Rex is puzzled but places the bowl of cold water on the table beside you. “He's taking her armour to Obi Wan to be cleaned up a little.” Jesse says, hoping off of the table and onto the bed, far away from the water. He doesn't want to get wet because otherwise his little paper body would just rip apart. 

“Echo, could you go and ask Gregor to make some soup? It'll help to make her feel better while she heals.” Echo nods and waddles out of the room and down the hall. Kix turns back to Rex “Okay, could you wring out the cloth a little so it's just damp and then place it on her forehead please, Rex?” Rex appreciates that Kix is helping him with what to do, he's never had to do this before. He grabs the cloth and squeezes out some of the water so it's just damp. The only problem is, his fur is getting soaked, but he doesn't mind. All that matters is making sure that you feel better soon. He places it gently on your forehead. You feel the coolness from the cloth, making your eyes begin to flutter open.

You look up to see the monster in your room, you let out a tiny gasp of surprise and fear, then you try to scoot away. “Wait-!” Rex tries to stop you, but you’re too weak to move anyway. You still struggle to try to get up, no matter how weak you are. 

Kix flies straight up to your face. “Lay back down, now! You’re too weak and sick to move.” you look at the pen in shock. “I’ve either gone crazy or I’m dreaming.” you whisper weakly to yourself, making Rex chuckle. “No, it’s not either of those. Now lay down, you’re sick and need rest.” Rex tenderly uses his hands to lay you back down, you’re way too weak to even attempt to stop him. 

“Good, how are you feeling miss…” you look up at the talking pen, noting the concerned look on his face. “Shiny… I’m Shiny. And I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Kix nods. “Yeah, you will be feeling like that for a while. May I ask when the last time you ate was, Miss Shiny?”

“You can just call me Shiny, the last time I ate was probably the day before I arrived here. It took me a while to find this castle.” Kix hums, he is not happy at all about how long you went without eating. “Okay, we’re getting you some soup so you should be okay.” you nod, then turn to Rex.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask in confusion, your voice is very quiet and weak, making Rex’s ears press back in guilt. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that you had to eat with me or starve. You are allowed to eat whenever you want from now on. I promise.” Your eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect that. “I… Thank you, I’m sorry for being so rude and stubborn.”

You look down at yourself, realizing that you aren’t wearing your armor anymore, all you’re wearing now is your underclothes and Kama. You feel nervous. “Where's my armor?” You ask quietly, you hate feeling so vulnerable. You try to get up again but end up in a coughing fit.

“You have to sit her up now!” Kix looks at Rex and uses an alarming tone, causing Rex to place a hand on your back to sit you up right. He keeps it there to keep you steady while you keep on coughing. Fives hops as quick as he can to the refresher and back again with a glass of water, placing it on the table beside you. A moment later, your coughing calms down and you gesture to Rex for the glass of water. He hands it over to you, but he notices your hand shaking. “Would you like me to hold it for you while you drink?” 

You feel embarrassed that you can't hold it by yourself, but you nod, despite how vulnerable you feel. Rex tips the glass ever so slightly, bringing it closer to your mouth. The cold water soothes your throat as you take small sips at a time, in case you start coughing again. You pull away from the glass and Rex places it back down. “Thank you.” You give him a weak smile, wobbling a little as your energy begins to deplete again. “Woah, steady.” Rex's tone is much softer now as he lays you back down on the bed, positioning the pillow better beneath your head. 

“Sorry, I never asked you your names.” you feel bad that you've told them your name but you haven't asked who they are yet. “It's alright, I'm Rex. The pen is Kix, Fives is the candelabra over there and this is Jesse.” The little paper man pops up from behind one of the pillows at the end of the bed. “It's nice to meet you all-”

“I've got the soup, it's still nice and hot.” Echo calls out to Kix, handing the soup to Rex who puts the bowl on the table. You peer over the bed to the ground to see a pendulum clock. Echo freezes when he catches you looking at him, then he screams and hides behind the end of the bed. Fives goes over to his twin to comfort him. You look at Rex with a nervous look. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare him.” Rex sadly smiles. “It's alright, it's not your fault. A few days ago, when your father was here, he had taken a gear out of Echo, over there, which made him suffer in a lot of pain.”

“Oh gosh. I am so sorry that happened. My papa, he... he's an inventor so he didn't mean any harm, he is just very interested in how a variety of different things work.” Rex frowns a little as he replays the memory back in his mind. “Maybe, but my brother was in a lot of pain.” You can understand why Rex is upset about what happened, the thought of losing his brother must've been scary. 

The sound of whispering voices could be heard from behind the bed, stopping just before the little clock, Echo, steps out into your view again. You can see a guilty look on his face “I'm sorry that I screamed. I didn't know that you were awake.” You do your best to smile kindly at Echo even though you don’t feel good.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for frightening you. It’s very nice to meet you Echo. I’m Shiny.” You weakly hold your finger out to him, and he takes it softly and shakes it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Shiny.” you smile at the clock, you find him adorable. You look over at the soup.

“Is that for me?” You ask and Rex nods, he picks it up. “Do you need help eating it?” He asks quietly, you want to eat it yourself but you’re so weak. “Yes, please.” Rex grabs the spoon, picking up a little and bringing it to your lips carefully. “Make sure you take little sips, it’s not good to eat fast after going so long without food.” Kix warns and you nod to the pen, taking tiny sips slowly off of the spoon. This continues until you eat about half the bowl.

“I’m full, thank you. It was really good.” Rex smiles. “I’ll have to tell Gregor that you liked it.” You smile, but do your best to  keep your guard up, you still don’t trust Rex fully after what happened in the beginning. “Where’s my armor? I remember wearing it when I fell asleep.” Rex rubs the back of his neck.

“I had to take it off of you, It’s not very good for you to wear it all the time, especially while sleeping. My brother Cody took it to be cleaned, we have a couple of Knights here, so they’ll take good care of it.” You nod, glad to know that it’s being taken care of. “I’ll have to thank them, my armor hasn’t been cleaned in a while.” You feel your eyes grow heavy and before Rex or anyone knows it, you’ve fallen asleep.

“Is she going to be okay, Kix?” Rex asks, he feels really bad for leaving you without food still. Kix hums. “She should be okay as long as she has lots of fluids and rest. It will probably take a week or two for her to be in tip top shape.” Rex feels relief fill him, he finds that he likes you, only as a friend right now though. He hopes to make it up to you once you’re better.

Rex hears shuffling and Cody comes in, free of the armor. “How is she doing?” Rex smiles at his brother. “You actually just missed her, she woke up, ate and fell back to sleep.” Cody hums happily. “That's good, I’m glad that she got something to eat.” 

“Yeah, I am too...Kix said it'll take her a couple of weeks until she fully recovers, so we'll have to watch over her, keep on checking on her every now and then.” Rex looks at you again, you look so peaceful as you sleep. “How did it go when she woke up?” Cody asks, unsure of how you reacted.

“She was a little frightened and confused at first, but she soon calmed down once we started to talk to her. I told her our names, you as well, and she said that her name is Shiny.” Cody feels himself smile. “It's a fitting name, it sounds more like a nickname, but it suits her. Being a knight and all.” Rex nods, agreeing.

“Yeah, I agree. It's a nice name for her.” Rex smiles as he decides to lay you down into a better position to sleep tonight. “Maybe we should let her rest for tonight now?” Everyone else in the room nods as they make their way out. Rex looks back, seeing you roll over onto your side and snuggle into the sheets. He shuts the door quietly and sighs happily with relief. Looking down, he sees the discarded sandwiches still on the tray on the floor, so he picks it up and takes it to the kitchen to be put in the fridge. He'll take them to you tomorrow if you are feeling any better.

xxx

Obi Wan is scrubbing away the dirt from your armour while Anakin finishes off the cleaning by polishing each piece with care.

Anakin starts some conversation “I can't believe there's another knight in the castle now. It's pretty exciting!” Obi Wan  smiles “Yes, you're right. It's a shame that she is sick though.” They remember when Cody brought you armour to them to be cleaned up a bit, also saying about how you weren't feeling too well. 

“I hope she feels better soon, it would be great to talk to another knight.” Obi Wan chuckles a little at Anakin's enthusiasm. “It would indeed.”

xxx

Rex wakes up to a scream, he already knows that it’s yours. He jumps out of the bed and runs on all fours to your room. As soon as he opens the door he sees you, writhing around on your bed, with tears in his eyes. You’re still asleep, screaming out and whimpering. 

Rex runs over to you, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. “Shiny! Shiny wake up, you’re having a nightmare!” You gasp as you wake up, then you go into what Rex knows is battle mode and start to punch him. It hardly hurts him at all since you’re so weak, but he’s more worried about you making yourself sicker by using up your energy.

“Shiny! Calm down, it’s me Rex. I… I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You finally realize what's happening and stop fighting Rex, relaxing as he lays you back down. You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I’m sorry for waking you.” You whisper, feeling bad. You don’t know why you feel bad for waking Rex, he’s only just started being nice to you and you hated his gut’s only yesterday.

“It’s fine, I’ve had nightmares before too.” Rex hates seeing you upset, he doesn’t know why but he wants to hold you. He wants to comfort you. You nod. “Is it okay if I go back to sleep now, I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“You don’t need to ask, go ahead. If you need anything just call, someone will hear you.” you nod, turning over and curling up to go to sleep. Rex smiles at the sight, leaving your room and closing the door gently, as not to disturb you. 

He heads back to his bed, curling into the blankets. Rex wonders what you were dreaming about that was so horrible, he’s already decided to keep an ear out for you, just in case.

xxx

The next morning, you feel a little groggy and under the weather, but you focus on how comfortable the bed is to take your mind off of your fever. You shuffle in the bed so you are sitting upright, rubbing your eyes as the morning sun shines through the slightly ajar curtains. Muffled voices could be heard from behind your door, so you try your best to concentrate on what they are saying.

“They're awake, I just heard them.” “Anakin, we need to let them rest.” “But, Obi-Wan…” 

You chuckle a little before calling as loud as your scratchy voice can go. “It's alright, you can come in if you'd like?” The voices stop muttering to each other just before the door opens. 

Your eyes widen in excitement at the two suits of armour standing at the door. There isn't much difference between them, except what they have on their helmets. One of them has a piece of brown cloth attached to the helmet and the other has orange feathers coming out of the top. “Hello there, you must be the girl everyone has been talking about. You're a knight too?” The one with orange feathers asks and you nod.

“Yes, my name is Shiny. It's good to meet you…” you pause for them to tell you their names. “Oh apologies, my name is Obi Wan. This here is-”

“Anakin, I'm Anakin.” the one with the brown cloth steps forward to you, holding out his hand for a friendly hand shake. You smile and shake his hand. “Wow, a female knight!” 

“Why are you surprised?” You asked, an expression of confusion on your face. “It’s just been a while since we’ve seen one.” You nod, it makes sense. “Yeah, female knights aren’t well liked so I understand that it’s been a while.”

Anakin and Obi Wan glance at each other. “What do you mean, there's nothing wrong with female knights, what do you mean that they aren’t well liked?” Obi Wan asks and you look at the two suits of armor, surprised. “Is it different here? In my village, women aren’t supposed to be knights, it's considered abnormal and odd. I’m the only female knight in my village, and I’ve never seen another one come through either.”

Obi Wan and Anakin would have an expression of anger if they could, but you could feel the anger in the force. “That’s not right, anyone can be a knight as long as they train. Your village sounds horrible.” 

You nod, sighing. “Believe me, it is. I’ve been called odd my whole life in the village, and teased by the male Knights. It’s not fun.” Obi Wan walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. “That’s not right, my dear. They have no right to treat you that way, may I ask who trained you in the force?” Obi Wan’s already sensed that you were force sensitive, that was very clear.

“None of the knights in my village wanted to train me. The only one who would was a retired Knight who worked at a bookshop, we had to train in secret, since no one liked me using the force so I’m not as trained as I would like to be.” Obi Wan is not happy at all about how your village had treated you, it was abuse! “You know, me and my fellow knight’s can help train you? If you would like?”

“Really? That would be amazing, thank you! You don't mind do you?” Obi Wan shakes his head. “Not at all, dear. We'd be more than happy to train you, wouldn't we, Anakin?” The night named Anakin nods his head enthusiastically. 

“Of course! It'll be great to have another knight to hang out with.” You smile at him, thankful that they are kind enough and willing to teach you skills that the knights in your village refused to teach you. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” You cover a cough, you still don’t feel well at all.

The door swings open again, two more knights appearing. One has feathers like Obi Wan's, but instead of orange ones they are brown. The other knight has a Kel dor shaped helmet, he carries a tray with a pot of tea and four little teacups. “Good morning, Miss. I thought you'd like some tea?” The Kel dor offers.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Your voice is a little croaky, but hopefully a hot cup of tea will help it. The knight slowly tips the teapot to fill a little teacup, carefully picking it up and handing it to you. You take it from him and sip some of the hot warm, making sure you don't burn your mouth. 

When you pull it away from your mouth, you notice a small scratch and when you look closer, the teacup has eyes and a mouth. “Hi there. You're so adorable.” You chuckle when the little teacup shows a grumpy expression.

“I-I'm not cute!” He tries his hardest to be annoyed, but he feels a bit flustered from the compliment. The other three teacups on the tray laugh at Wolffe.

“You really do look adorable as a teacup, Ori’Vod.” One of the teacups says and you chuckle as the one in your hand pouts. “I’m not cute, Comet. I’m 21 years old, too old to be cute.” Everyone chuckles at Wolffe, and you stroke the scratch over his eye, making him hum.

“Well I don’t think that you can ever be too old to be called cute, and you’re all adorable, not just Wolffe.” The other three’s mouths open wide, as the Kel dor looking knight chuckles. “All four of you are adorable.” You smile at how sweet the Keldor is to all of them, he then turns to you.

“I’m sorry, I never told you my name. I am Plo Koon, but you can just call me Plo. and these are my son’s.” he gestures to all four of the teacups. “You already met Wolffe, these two are the twins, Boost and Sinker, they’re twenty years old. And this is my youngest, Comet, he’s 18.” 

You smile at the teacups. “Well it’s very nice to meet you, Plo. and it was very nice meeting these three as well.” You smile at the little teacups, finding them absolutely adorable. “So, you’re a Knight like Buir?” Wolffe asks and you nod.

“Great! We haven’t had another Knight in years, by the way, what's your name?” You internally facepalm when you realize that you never told Plo or his kids your name. “Sorry, my name’s Shiny.” Wolffe and his brother’s smile, they like the name.

“That’s a nice name, Shiny.” Comet tells you, hopping over. “Yeah, its so cool!” Boost hops over as well.

“That is a very pretty name, Miss Shiny. Its a pleasure to meet you.” You smile at the Kel dor, then you turn to the other Knight that came in with him. “Hello, What’s your name?” You ask, noticing that this Knight is quieter than the rest.

“My name's Kanan, it's nice to meet you Shiny.” The kind tone to his voice makes you smile. He wishes that he could smile back at you, but it's been years now that he's gotten used to just showing his emotions through his words. “It's great to meet another knight. It's been a long time, how are you feeling?” He asks as you take another sip from the little tea cup still sat in your hands.

“I'm feeling a bit better after this drink, thank you.” You smile at Plo and he nods back at you. 

“So how did you get your name, Shiny? It sounds more like a nickname.” Anakin asks inquisitively. “It is a nickname, the male knights in the village always picked on me and called me that. I guess it kinda grew on me, and it wasn't long before my whole village was calling me Shiny. My given name is y/n.” Anakin frowns a little, feeling sorry that he made you bring up the other knights who would pick on you.

“I'm sorry that they weren't very nice to you. We'll definitely have to help you train and teach you loads of new skills for sure!” You smile gratefully at the suit of armor. “Thank you so much, that would be amazing.” You hand Wolffe back over to Plo and join his brothers.

The knight named Obi Wan turns to you “So, what name would you prefer us to call you by?” 

“I prefer my nickname, Shiny, over my given name.” You explain to them as they share a small nod with each other. “Great, we'll call you by that then, Shiny.” Obi Wan's cheery voice makes you smile once again. You lay down against the bed, you’re starting to feel weak again. The knights leave to let you rest, they all wish you well.

A few moments later, a pen floats through the door followed by a paper bird gliding through the air. Kix hovers near you “Good morning, Shiny. How are you feeling today? You look a lot better.” Kix asks and you nod. “Yes, I'm feeling better after having some food and some sleep thank you. I am starting to feel weak again, but I had quite a few visitors this morning.”

You watch the little paper bird circling around the bed a few times, and before it lands, it unfolds and folds back up into a paper man. “Mornin', Shiny.” you realise who this is now as he moved the ink around on his face to create his features. “Morning, Jesse. That was amazing! How do you do that?”

“Well I kinda just imagine whatever I want to fold into and then it happens.” He chuckles to himself, not really knowing himself how he can do the things that he can do with moving the ink around his paper body and folding himself into multiple shapes and figures. “That's so cool.” 

Jesse smiles at you once he folds himself back into a human shape. “It definitely is!” you then turn to Kix.

“So Kix, how did you become a doctor?” You ask the pen, trying to make conversation. Kix looks up at you smiling. “It was about thirteen years ago that I finished my training, Jesse here was actually my first patient. He was supportive of me all the way, even though our parents weren’t exactly thrilled.”

“That’s interesting, do you mind if I ask how Jesse was injured.” Jesse looks down in embarrassment while Kix chuckles. “Jesse and a few of our cousins were having a snowball fight, he ended up getting a black eye and I had to take care of him, he was my first patient while I was… Younger.” You heard Kix’s pause, but from his story you already know why and what he was going to say.

“You mean when you were human?” You ask, making Kix and Jesse’s eyes go wide. “How do you…?” Kix asks, making you smile even though you don’t feel well.

“It was pretty easy to figure out from your story, a pen wouldn’t be able to become a doctor and a piece of paper can’t get a black eye. Or play in the snow.” Kix and Jesse glance at each other, you were not supposed to find out, Rex is not going to be happy. At all.

“Will you excuse us, Shiny. I’ll be back in a little bit to give you a checkup.” You nod and both of them fly out of the room, Jesse folding himself into a bird again. You wonder what’s going to happen now. You lay down and decide to get some rest, hoping to find out the answer when you wake up.

Taglist:  @lightning-wolffe  @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life  @ellie1366 @pinkiemme @trash-dino-5000 @captainrexisboo

[hansensgirl]

trigger | b. barnes

summary | your captor threatens to shoot you if you don’t comply to his twisted orders.

pairings | dark!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings | noncon sex, gun play, vaginal sex, dark!bucky, mentions of kidnapping, creepy!bucky, degrading, choking, slapping, sergeant kink, SMUT, DARK!FIC, 18+

a/n | the gunplay fic/drabble i promised, it’s not a full on fic but not a drabble either, a short one shot basically? DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

BUCKY CAREFULLY cleaned the small glock that was in his hands, shining it until he saw his own reflection in it. he tediously did this whenever he had something on his mind. you were the something. he couldn’t believe he finally had you to himself, locked in his basement with no one else, just you. a small smile grew on his face at the thought of you to himself. he didn’t know how long he had you down there, but he knew that the time that you weren’t his was too much.

1 month, 2 weeks and three days, that’s what your calculations and memory got you. you didn’t remember what freedom was, but if you knew that you would be robbed of it, you would’ve been more grateful. at first you refused to eat, a way of defiance. but bucky wasn’t having any of that, he forcefully fed you until you realized that defying him was a big no. you were lucky he didn’t force himself onto you or kill you yet, but you knew luck wasn’t always on your side. the creek from the aged wooden door startled you, and you were met with the face of your captor.

he wore a creepy smile on his face, almost as if he was wearing a mask. you gulped nervously as you watched him descend down the cement stairs, his vibranium arm whirring. both his arms were behind his back, as if he had a gift for you. “c’mon baby, don’t be scared now, i got you a gift” he giddily told you, as if he was a little boy who had a crush on someone for the first time. you looked up at him nervously, after learning that he prefers eye contact when he talks. “you’re going to love this, well it’s more for me but i love you so much that i’m willing to share” he explained as you waited for him to get on with it. “what is it?” you asked with fake curiosity.

“ready?” how you answered the question didn’t matter. he put his hands in front of you and showed you the shiny gun. “w-what’s that for?” you asked with fear, staring at the gun. you thought that that was it, your life was about to end right there and then. “you see, i don’t like it when people don’t listen to me,” he started to explain, cocking the gun “so this is for when you don’t listen to me, now you know i don’t want to hurt you, so you should just cooperate!” he exclaimed at the end of his explanation, the casualty in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

bucky reached down to caress your delicate face, but you pulled away from him. “don’t touch me, you psycho!” you spat at him with pure disgust. his mood changed immediately, going from being absolutely happy to furiously angry. “what the fuck did you just call me?” he lunged at you, metal arm wrapping around your neck and he pressed the gun to your head. “you fucking psycho” you taunted, digging your own grave. if looks could kill, you’d be six feet deep already. he pushed the gun into your head and tightened his hand, watching as you shook with fear. “i’ll blow your brains out right now you know? but you look so pretty when you’re scared baby” he smirked creepily, studying your face.

you were close to begging him not to, but you couldn’t let go of your pride, not yet and not ever. he pulled you up by the throat and dragged you to the bloodied mattress on the floor. you threw you onto it, but you went to get up. he quickly straddled you and your first instinct was to fight. you clawed at him and kick your legs, trying to get him off of you. “no- get off!” you screamed, pushing him with all your strength. bucky laughed at your attempts, knowing that he’s so much more stronger than you. the moment you heard the cock of his gun over all your thrashing, you immediately stopped.

bucky held the gun to your face and traced it with the gun, smiling dearly. “your attempts are adorable, really” he chuckled, grabbing your hands. “i would hate to cut these off, you’d be so helpless without them” he threatened, his face dropping. your breathing was heavy as you were tired from all the fighting. bucky ripped the old fashioned night gown you wore off your body, your tits spilling out. “so pretty, i always saw these through the cameras, but know they’re in front of me” he mumbled, but it didn’t go past you. “please don’t, don’t do this” you pleaded, sobbing out. bucky shoved the gun into your open mouth, your eyes grew big in fear.

“as much as i love to hear you beg, i deserve this! especially after all the fighting and tantrums you threw” he pushed the gun farther into your mouth, making you gag on it. he pulled the vintage styled panties off, and threw it at your face, before he went to spread your legs. you quickly tried to close them, but he gripped your thighs roughly and pried them open. you shook your head no, silent tears falling down your face. “suck on it, as if it was my cock” he ordered, you hesitated at first but then complied, scared at what he could do to you if you didn’t. he watched as you sucked on the gun weakly, as if it were a popsicle.

“c’mon, i’ve seen you suck a cock better!” he exclaimed, disappointed with you. your eyes went wide, wondering what else he saw. “oh baby, i saw everything” he pressed a kiss to your chest. you sucked on it as if you were sucking dick, but a little less sexual. “such a little slut, my little slut” he grinned brightly, showcasing his pearly whites. you squeezed your eyes tight with shame, before he pulled the gun out with no warning. you coughed coarsely as you saw that the gun was shiny with your spit. it was drenched with your saliva, and even a little dripped onto your stomach.

he brought the gun down to your pussy and held it above your cunt. he spat on his fingers and rubbed your clit with them, making you bit back a moan. you tried resisting the pleasure, you really did, but your body ultimately betrayed your mind. wetness started pooling at your entrance, slicking you up. “see, your body is giving in to me” he told you, his eyes still trained on your pussy. he stopped rubbing your clit, making you sigh in relief. with nothing warning, he pushed the gun into your pussy, stretching your tight hole out. you were confused, your mind told you to stop, but your body gave in to your captor. you didn’t know what to do, but when he thrusted the gun, you let out a small whimper.

he smiled up at you and the gun grazed your sensitive walls. the stretch was perfect, and the gun was long enough. your pussy succumbed to bucky, well the gun, and you slowly started to do so, too. more wetness started to pool, and you moaned louder, satisfied with the pleasure you were receiving. was your sex life so bad that you received more pleasure from a gun than from any of your one night stands? he started thrusting the gun faster, but this time he rubbed on your clit. you moaned loudly, the pleasure causing your legs to shake. the knot in your stomach tightened and tighten, and with one final thrust that hit your g-spot, you came with a cry. your legs shook and you sobbed in pleasure, gushing around the barrel of the gun.

he stopped rubbing your clit and pulled the gun out, his fingers swiping of some of your cum. he sniffed it and moaned, before lapping the cum up on his fingers. “tastes so sweet, and smells like fear, amazing” he smirked, content with how you succumbed to him. you whimpered and tried to close your legs, but he was quick to stop you. he forced your mouth open and pushed the gun in once again, making you taste yourself around it. the mixture of cum and spit made you feel dirty. “suck” he ordered, and you easily complied.

the sound of a zipper unzipped made you look down at bucky, just to see him undress himself. he stripped himself from his shirt and pants, as well as his boxers too. his large cock bounced up and slapped his lower stomach, making you swallow in fear. he stroked himself as his hand wrapped around the gun once again, keeping it in place. maybe he’s just going to masturbate, you thought, well hoped. but you were far from being correct, when he aligned himself to your wet pussy. your eyes grew wide as you shook your head no. you started fighting back once again, trying to get up. bucky aggressively shoved you down and pulled the gun out of your mouth, before slapping you harshly.

it was as if he put all his strength into that slap, at least that’s what it felt like. you cried out in pain and held your cheek, the pain not leaving yet. “do that one more time, and i’ll shoot you until i run out of bullets” he threatened, making tears well up in your eyes. he held the gun to your head as he forcefully shoved his cock in your tight pussy. the stretch was painful, but he didn’t give you anytime to get used to it. he pulled back and snapped his hips into you roughly, the grip he had on your hip was bruising. the gun stayed at your head as he fucked into you roughly. his cock poked at your cervix, making you cry out.

“shut it” he growled, his thrusts harsher than before. you sobbed quietly as you felt yourself closer to your release. the fear almost acted as a aphrodisiac for both you and him, the sound of your wet pussy squelching made you feel ashamed. the shame turned to pleasure though, you came around his thick cock over and over. you babbled like a baby and he growled ferally. with one specific harsh thrust, he came inside you. you felt his cum paint your walls, and it was as if it never ended. he pulled out and brought the gun down to your pussy, plugging you up with it. “oh shit, i didn’t wear a condom! and you aren’t on any birth-control” he falsely realized, and you saw right through it.

“oh and i forgot to tell you, i left the safety on the gun!”

TAGLIST — @spicylangdon @lollypop-lam @boozeb4noon @ninamcu @parker-barnes-af @anxiousamandapanda @annavega333 @good-old-fashioned-queens @jianawoods @marvel-mania27 @xoxabs88xox @sillyqt @sharonfuckingcarter @hv-chw3 @notyourtypicalrose @sebbbystaaan @mushyjellybeans @littleprettykitten @rayche776 @buckysthot @honeychicana

i’m also gonna tag @darkficsyouneveraskedfor cause they’re like the queen of dark!fics (sorry if i bothered you <3)

[whumpywhumper]

Trouble

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

TW: Sick fic, mostly fluff 

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @walkingchemicalfire @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo 

As always, special thanks to: @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread 

I’m spoiling you with content, it’s been months since i’ve posted this much. This is set shortly after Markus is released from the hospital, in the vague future timeline. 

Masterpost

V***V 

Markus shivered, pushing himself deeper into the couch, icy hand tucking the blanket around the exposed skin of his neck.

He really wanted to sleep. If he could sleep then maybe he’d start to feel better.

The doctors had warned him about pushing himself too hard so soon after being released, but working on one charm had rolled into the next, and before he knew it, he’d been working for hours. He had barely managed to drink some tea before the exhaustion was rolling over him. The sandwich he hadn’t even really wanted was still sitting on the coffee table, untouched.

What he really needed was sleep anyway.

He grunted, shifting on the couch to try and soothe the ache in his back and muscles. Now that he wasn’t vertical, he couldn’t find the motivation, or the energy, to get up and go to bed.

The couch was comfortable enough, usually. He would just sleep here.  

If only he wasn’t so damn cold.

Groaning, he leveraged his heavy eyelids open and found Kincaid’s blanket thrown over the back of the couch. It was a thick, lumpy crochet thing that Ben had apparently made for him years ago, and the man was ridiculously proprietary of it. Even Ben wasn’t allowed to use it without suffering from Kincaid’s damn puppy dog eyes.

Heavy eyes slid across the room, the dusk light creating shadows over the empty apartment. From what he recalled, Ben and Kincaid wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Snaking his arm out into the frigid air, he snagged the soft material and pulled it over his own blanket, the heavy weight pressing him back down into the couch. Heat slowly built under the blankets, and while Markus didn’t feel any more comfortable than before, it allowed his muscles to relax.

With a sigh, he let his eyes slide back closed, eyelashes feeling glued together. Absently, he hugged himself, arms bracing his perpetually aching ribs. He took a deep breath, coughing slightly as the air tickled his throat, and rubbed his cheek against the throw pillow.

Maybe he could sleep now. Get some energy back. He would feel better in the morning.

~~

Ben unlocked the apartment door, his duffle hanging heavy on his shoulder as he made his way into the dark entryway.

Trying to be quiet, he lowered the bag to the floor and toed off his shoes. It had been a long day, and Ben was eager to get to bed even though he wouldn’t be sleeping next to Kincaid. The other officer was still on stake out, but Holland had sent Ben home.

He’d fucking fallen asleep. Twice.

Using the light of his phone, he illuminated his way into the kitchen, grimacing when the oven clock announced that it was two o’clock in the morning. He groaned lowly, rubbing at his whiskery cheeks. Grabbing a glass of water, he thought about rummaging in the refrigerator, using the microwave to heat up something, but he didn’t want to wake Markus.

They were getting along better, the witch was less wary of him now, but it was still day by day. Something about the fact that Ben wasn’t a supernatural made Markus nervous, and after everything he’d been through, it was tough to blame him.

Shuffling toward the living room, he yawned, intent on the bedroom at the opposite end. A soft, muffled whimper from the couch, however, halted him in his tracks, ice sliding down his spine.

He swung around, the dim light of the phone not doing much other than showing him an indistinct lump on the couch. Infinitely more awake than before, his hand snagged the chain on the standing lamp, the soft, yellow light flooding their apartment. Ben’s eyebrows drew together in concern when he made out the lump on the couch.

Markus’s tall figure was curled up there, somehow buried in the cushions to where only the back of his head was visible. Ben’s heart swelled when he realized that the witch was wrapped in Kincaid’s throw.The blanket was a monstrosity of yellow and white, Ben’s ill conceived hobby resulting in only the one blanket that he’d gifted to Kincaid for their second anniversary.  

It was ridiculous, not to mention inappropriate, how his heart skipped a beat and sped when he thought about Markus being wrapped in it.

Padding over on sock clad feet, Ben peered into the cocoon of blankets and frowned at what he saw. Markus’s face was flushed, color high on the apples of his cheeks, and his eyes moved rapidly under red tinged lids. Ben cocked his head, ears picking up on the slight wheeze to each of his sleep heavy breaths.

“Markus?” he questioned softly, hesitant to startle his friend. The witch barely stirred, his nose wrinkling slightly as he let out another quiet sound of discomfort. As gently as he could, Ben brushed the back of his fingers against the sleeping man’s cheek, unsurprised by the heat he found there. He tsked, frown deepening.

On autopilot, Ben moved to he and Kincaid’s bathroom, collecting the supplies he would need and snatching one of his many kits from under the sink. He wasn’t terribly worried, even though the witch hadn’t been out of the hospital all that long. Markus’s immune system was down, and the witch hadn’t been very receptive to all of their warnings about taking it easy. This was probably just a bug, but he still needed to check Markus’s injuries and see if they’d gotten infected.

Back in the living room, Markus hadn’t moved, his dark hair glistening slightly with beads of sweat. Sliding an untouched sandwich out of the way, Ben set his supplies down on the coffee table, and started rubbing Markus’s shoulder through the blankets. “Hey, Markus,” he called, voice slightly louder than before but still soft, “I need you to wake up for a minute, okay?”

Markus shifted slightly, moaning in complaint when Ben started rubbing his back a little harder. “Wake up, buddy, I need to check you out.” Green eyes creaked open to glare at him, and Ben couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even hazy with fever and sleep, Markus’s ire at being bothered was clear. “Easy there, tiger,” he chuckled, “it’s just me.”

“Ben?” Markus mumbled, voice rough, “wha’s goin’ on?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,” he answered, smiling encouragingly, “I think you’ve got a fever, I gotta check you out, make sure nothing’s wrong.”

The other man grumbled, turning his face back into the pillow. “‘M fine, just need some sleep.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ben shook his head, not allowing him to escape that easy. He brushed his fingers through Markus’s hair, pulling gently at his shoulder. “At least roll over and let me check your temp, huh? Get some ibuprofen in you.”

“Don’ wanna,” Markus groused, “‘Lemme alone, ‘m sore.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Ben said under his breath, reaching behind him for the temporal thermometer. As well as he could, he pressed the small device against Markus’s forehead, rolling to get an accurate read. 101.8. He winced, whistling through his teeth. “Yeahhh,” he drawled, “you’re running a fever, Bambi. C’mon,” he coaxed, pulling at the corner of the blankets. He needed to get that fever down and the only thing the blankets were doing was making it worse.

Markus shivered, whimpering softly as the cool air hit his fever warm skin. “You suck,” he whined, “it’s cold.”

“I know I do,” Ben agreed, helping Markus as the witch finally cooperated and rolled onto his back. “I’m gonna grab you some water to wash these down with, I’ll be right back.”

Throwing his arm over his eyes, the witch nodded stiffly as he clenched his jaw against chattering teeth. “Be here,” he said faintly, fisting his free hand in the corner of the blanket.  

Ben shook his head, pressing his lips together as the exposed line of Markus’s throat caught the dim light, the small, shiny scars from the bite marks standing out. The poor guy can’t catch a break, he thought darkly.

In the kitchen, he grabbed one of the chilled water bottles they had in the fridge. As an afterthought, he snagged a soft towel from their overstuffed drawer and wet it. He knew how much he hated being touched when he was running a fever, but he didn’t want that for Markus. Hopefully, the worn material wouldn’t chafe the witch’s oversensitive skin.

“Can you sit up for me, Markus?” he called, hearing a groan answer him. He returned to the witch leveraging himself up on his elbows, arms shaking as his dark hair fell into his face. Ben darted in to support Markus’s shoulders, murmuring a soft apology as his quick movement garnered a flinch. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, the much more familiar endearment slipping from his lips as easy as breathing, “sorry, just want to help a little.”

Markus let him take over the movement, allowing Ben to brace him against the back of the couch as he sat next to him. “S’okay,” the witch sighed, “just dinn’t see you.” Their eyes met, and Markus’s placating smile wasn’t enough to hide all of the exhaustion that had nothing to do with fever and sickness.

Ben suppressed the instinctive need to soothe him, knowing it would just be taken as pity, and hummed in response. “Take these for me?” he requested, handing over a few ibuprofen. The witch grimaced, but tossed the pills back and dry swallowed with the practiced motion of one accustomed to a barrage of medications. Ben cracked open the water bottle and held it out, but one look at Markus’s shaking hands had him raising it for the other to drink.

A glassy, irritated glare was all the objection he received, so he let the bottle rest against Markus’s chapped lower lip, ignoring the way the water soothed the dry skin as he tipped it. Markus drank a few mouthfuls of the cool water, shaking his head and turning away with an exhausted sigh when he was done. “Okay, baby, just a little more, and I’ll let you go to sleep,” Ben said quietly, “Can I see those incision sites? I need to know if they’re infected.”

“Can’t get me outta my clothes that easy, Ben,” Markus slurred, eyelids firmly closed even as his lips lifted in a soft smile, “gotta at leas’ buy me dinner.”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh, his hand moving to brush the hair away from Markus’s eyes without even registering the motion. “Aw, c’mon gorgeous, you’ll make my night.”

Markus laughed, but the exhale turned into a low, grinding cough that made Ben’s smile drop into a concerned frown. The witch grimaced in discomfort, hugging his ribs as he tried to even his breathing. “Fucking hell,” Markus cursed, breaths rough in his throat.

“Yeah, okay, Bambi,” Ben soothed softly, petting through Markus’s hair again. His chest ached when the witch turned to nuzzle into Ben’s palm, the unconscious action startlingly comfortable. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, fingers going to the buttons of Markus’s soft flannel. Clinically, he examined his friend’s lingering injuries, moving the waist of his sweats as modestly as he could so that he could palpate the healing stab wound above his hip.  Other than a grimace at the ache, Markus didn’t show any sign of discomfort, and Ben felt himself relax when there wasn’t any sign of infection.

“I don’t think anything’s infected,” he announced softly, pulling the stethoscope from his bag, “but I’m thinking that cough is going to be our culprit.” The cool circle of the tool made Markus jump, and Ben hissed in apology. “I always forget to warn about that, sorry, pumpkin. Take a deep breath for me?”

Markus obeyed, staying limp against the couch as he took the careful, measured breaths that Ben requested. His skin was pebbling with goosebumps as the fever made him shiver, a slight sheen of sweat highlighting his pale skin. “‘M really cold,” Markus whimpered, eyes sliding open to half mast as his breath colored with the sound of a sob.

Ben’s heart broke, and he set aside the stethoscope to pull Markus’s shirt closed. “I’m done, baby, I’m sorry. I know you’re cold.” He disentangled Kincaid’s throw from Markus’s and draped the crocheted blanket back over him, tucking it around him even though he probably needed the thinner material of the other blanket. “I think you’re gonna be okay, so no ER tonight. Do you want to stay here or do you want to go to your bed?”

“Not movin’,” Markus muttered petulantly, long, dark eyelashes kissing his rosy cheeks as he seemed to sink back into the cushions.

“Gotcha,” Ben chuckled, “I’m gonna help you lay back down, okay?” Carefully, he slid his arm under Markus’s shoulders, free hand cradling the back of the other man’s head as he moved to stand and free up the space on the couch.

A hand latched onto Ben’s bicep through the blanket, and he froze when Markus’s foggy green eyes fluttered open to stare into his own. “Don’t go?” the witch breathed, the request so soft that Ben wouldn’t have been sure he heard it except for the desperate longing in Markus’s eyes.

It was impossible for his weak heart to resist.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ben replied, settling back onto the cushion and grabbing the damp cloth he’d set aside.  Reverently, he maneuvered Markus so that he was in the circle of his arms, heart fit to burst as Markus’s cheek settled against his chest, “I won’t go anywhere.”

Gently, Ben pressed the cool cloth to Markus’s face, moving it over his heated cheeks and down to his neck. The witch sighed in relief even as another shiver stole through his body. Ben smiled sadly, knowing the contradiction of fever hot cheeks and cold aches that made your entire body sore. Absently, he pressed his lips against Markus’s hair, holding the other man as his breathing evened out into a restful sleep.

It wasn’t long before Ben joined him even with the light of the lamp pressing against his eyelids. The exhaustion of the day, the last several weeks really, catching up with him as he held his friend.

That was how Kincaid found them hours later. Ben’s legs stretched out in front of him and his cheek smashed into Markus’s hair. A gentle kiss to the forehead had Ben twitching and opening his eyes, automatically smiling as he met his lover’s gaze. “Hey, baby,” Ben whispered softly, words ponderous and sleepy.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kincaid whispered back as he ran a hand through Ben’s dirty hair, “what’s going on?”

Ben hummed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he picked his head up. “Markus was running a fever,” he answered, yawning through his teeth. “He didn’t want to get up.”

Kincaid’s face creased in concern, moving his hand from Ben’s head to brush the back of his fingers against Markus’s cheek. The witch didn’t stir other than to curl his fingers tighter around Ben’s thigh, causing Ben himself to blink in surprise. He didn’t remember Markus’s hand moving there.

“He still feels a little warm, but it doesn’t seem high.”

“I think he pushed himself a little hard today, I don’t think it’s too serious. We’ll monitor him, make sure he takes care of himself and doesn’t let it get worse.”

Kincaid nodded, and Ben watched his lover’s eyes soften as he took in the two men curled together on the couch. His big hands were gentle when he pulled the edge of his blanket back around Markus’s shoulder, smoothing the bunched, well-loved yarn as he stroked his back. Already wrapped around his little finger, Ben thought, heart swelling.

“We’re in so much trouble,” Ben murmured, smiling softly when Kincaid’s eyes snapped over to his own. Ben didn’t feel anything other than acceptance, love, and affection in his expression when he pressed his cheek against Markus’s hair again. There was nothing else in his heart for both of these two.

“I know,” Kincaid whispered, shaking his head a bit as his growing smile turned rueful.

They didn’t need anything else to know that the other was on the same page.

Slowly, Kincaid bent to place a kiss on Markus’s forehead as well, his other hand curled around Ben’s nape.  

[curetapwater]

Hey uhhhhhh I could’ve said something sooner but I’ve started a fic that’s basically a retelling of Sailor Moon but with Pretty Cure characters. Here’s the first bit if you’re interested.

CW: brief blood at the very beginning

Nagisa knew too much about dying for someone still alive.

There she lay, curled up in shuddering fetal, biting back whimpers and growls because she couldn't give the ones that did this to her the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain. But of course she was in pain, what else were you supposed to feel when red was flowing from your pierced abdomen? She coughed and tasted iron. Now blood was coming from two places.

The lightest touch, warm and gentle, brushed her fingers. She mustered what strength she had left and opened her eyes. A girl's face lay mere centimeters from hers on this ground that shook with what Nagisa knew was the world crumbling around them. Wishing she could stop them, she beheld the tears streaming from the deep blue eyes that held Nagisa's world, her universe, for reasons she couldn't quite recall. Neither girl had the ability to speak, but Nagisa knew that right then what she needed to do was take the girl's hand.

Her hand...

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"NAGISAAAA! YOU'RE GONNA BE LAAATE!"

Misumi Nagisa was yanked back into the waking world so hard she feared whiplash. She blinked and rubbed at the clouds in her eyes until she could make out the time on her alarm clock. Oh. Her brother was right.

She yanked on her uniform button-down, skirt, vest, bow tie, and blazer faster than you can say "tardy," ran her toothbrush through her teeth and her hairbrush through her hair, grabbed the crosse leaning against her desk, and sprinted out her bedroom door.

"I'm heading out!" she announced without so much as a "good morning" to her family.

"Don't you at least want some toast?" her mother asked, spreading butter on a fresh slice.

But Nagisa was already on her way out of the apartment. "No time for toast!" she shouted back. Then she was back inside. "Oh, who am I kidding, there's always time for toast!"

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Trying not to choke on toast while running turned out to be a lot harder than television had led Nagisa to believe. Swallowing down the last bite with a hard gulp, she lamented morning coming so early.

She doubted this disaster would have even happened had she not been up all night scared she'd have the dream again. The one where she dies.

Shudders made her almost drop her crosse. That and the fact that she was still running. How could something that wasn't even real do this to her? It was invading real life! She'd considered telling her parents but figured they would just tell her what she already knew: that she wasn't really dying and that the world wasn't ending and that the girl with her wasn't dying either because she wasn't real. If she was, then Nagisa would be able to remember something about how she looked. Other than her eyes. And the way her hand felt...

Nagisa shook her head. If she went on like that it'd give the girls at Verone Academy all the more reason to stuff her locker full of letters she didn't want-

5 kilograms of something Nagisa couldn't see knocked her head clear of thoughts and into the pavement. She growled, staggering back up. "What was tha-"

A group of boys, maybe eight or nine years old, pushed past her and nearly threw off the balance she'd just regained. They were chasing a cream-colored cat that scampered all about, jumping on and off every surface it could to avoid the little menaces. It would seem the cat had chosen her as one of his landing spots.

Seeing the poor thing so helpless, in such terror, stabbed through Nagisa's stomach with a justice-induced rage.

"HEY!" she hollered, brandishing her crosse like a weapon. The boys turned, shocked at the power of her voice. "Pick on someone your own size!" They blinked at her. Then she raised her crosse in a jerk just threatening enough to make them scramble off.

The cat revved up to dart away, but stopped short and turned to stare at her.

"You okay, little guy?" Nagisa asked, stooping down to scratch his head. There was a bandage on his forehead. "Here, let me get that for you."

And she did, peeling the adhesive back to reveal the strangest marking she had ever seen, some sort of weird heart-shaped thing. She thought it might be a bald spot, but it was blue. Blue? Did cats come in blue? She'd never owned one-

Ah crap, now she was double late! The cat was fine, but she wasn't gonna be if she didn't book it to the train station!

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If it weren't for the vice principle telling her off about tardiness and irresponsibility and selfishness maybe Nagisa could have made it for at least the end of the first class period. But nope, instead by the time she made it to her classroom, the second class was well underway and Ms. Yoshimi was handing out grades for a test Nagisa had forgotten about the moment she'd turned it in.

"Ah, Ms. Misumi," she said. "Since you've decided to join us today maybe you can explain this." She handed her a paper face-down. Never a good sign. Walking to her desk, Nagisa clutched the side that held her red-ink fate flat against her stomach so no one, including herself, could see what it said. She waited until eyes were off her and snuck a peek.

She got a thirty percent.

"No way!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. All eyes were back on her. This day just kept getting better and better.

🖤🌙🖤🌙

"English is a weird language anyway," Rina consoled on the way to the train station.

Shiho nodded emphatically. "Yeah yeah yeah. If it's gonna, like, have that many rules then they shouldn't change all the time."

Well that was easy for them to say. At least they passed the test. Nagisa passed her crosse between her hands before resting it on her shoulder. Lacrosse had gotten her mind off of things for a bit. It helped that it was something she was actually good at. The muscles in her legs ached in protest of their continued use after practice, but they burned good because she knew she was getting stronger.

"Hey! I know what'll cheer you up, Nagisa!" Shiho said.

"What?"

"I hear that one jewelry store in the mall is having a huge huge huge sale!"

"I doubt there's anything in there we could afford, even if it's on sale," Rina reasoned.

"No, but, I hear they're cutting prices by, like, ninety percent!"

"Really? I need to see that for myself!"

Somehow Nagisa doubted even with those huge price cuts that she could afford anything. Not so much because the jewelry was expensive, but because she'd squandered her allowance on chocolate desserts and takoyaki (not at the same time). Not to mention she doubted she'd be getting another payment for the next ten years after her parents saw the newest low in her academic career. And she was pretty sure she was in the hole to begin with...

So, Nagisa hopped on the train to home and left Shiho and Rina to their detour.

She kept her eyes on her loafers. All she wanted to do in that moment was shuffle over to the nearest window so she could stare out of it with quiet sullenness instead of having to look anyone in the eye. But she managed to do just that when she forgot you're supposed to look forward when you shuffle and she ended up shuffling right into a boy's solid back.

"Ah!" She leapt back in surprise, and he did the same. Her surprise soon melted to deep, deep embarrassment when she looked up to find the cutest boy she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gorgeous floppy hair flopping gorgeously.

"I- I- I'm so sorry!" Nagisa replied with a bow.

"It's no problem," he said. "It was an honest mistake. You're Misumi, right?"

The tight cocoons forming in her heart burst into butterflies. "You know my name?"

"I told him," said the girl Nagisa just noticed had been standing with this boy the whole time. Nagisa recognized her as Yukishiro Honoka from her class, a very pretty girl with delicate pale skin and a head of shiny, neat hair that housed the brain that got the highest score on the test Nagisa had failed. And she knew him. Oh no.

"I apologize if it seemed like I had been talking behind your back," Yukishiro said, which planted in Nagisa's head the idea that she had been talking behind her back. "I was just concerned because you looked so distraught, and I was telling Fuji-P-"

"Ahhh... I told you not to call me that in public!" the boy said, cheeks flushing.

Great. They had pet names, too.

"I hope you're not still upset about that test," Yukishiro told her.

The butterflies in Nagisa's heart were replaced by a wasp sting of horror. "HOW DID YOU KNOW I GOT A THIRTY PERCENT ON THE ENGLISH TEST?!"

Conversations stopped all around her. Passengers, including far too many in Verone uniforms, briefly gaped at the girl dumb enough to announce something like that to a packed train car. Then they turned back in a way that was supposed to be discreet but everyone knew really wasn't.

Yukishiro's polite smile cracked to reveal a foundation of shock and second-hand embarrassment. "I- I- um, wasn't aware of the exact score, but... I just heard you exclaim 'no way' when you saw it and assumed you weren't happy..." She cleared her throat a bit, a cute little sound that somehow made Nagisa feel like even more of a bumbling fool. She had to get out of there.

"Well, it was nice meeting you!" she forced through her teeth before pushing through the packed train car to find a spot as far from all human beings as possible.

🖤🌙🖤🌙

At home, Nagisa was greeted not by her family but by a note:

Nagisa

Ryouta and I are out buying groceries. Leftovers in the fridge. DO YOUR HOMEWORK.

Love, Mom.

Her father wouldn't be home for several hours. So she had the apartment to herself to... what should she do? Cry? Sulk? Scream into her pillow? That last one sounded good. And then maybe if she was feeling a little more devious than usual, she'd change that 30 to an 80 with a couple strokes of a...

No, that was too low. She just wouldn't bring it up until it was brought up to her. Now there's a plan.

She went to her bedroom, threw her bag and crosse on a chair then threw herself onto her mountain of plush toys. She really hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and she decided not to remind herself why in case she scared herself into another all-nighter. That day, especially that exchange on the train, was way scarier than anything her brain could concoct, even if in her dreams she had tasted death...

Because she...

What was she thinking about, again..?

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Nagisa didn't even have time to dream before she was awakened by four little paws driving into her stomach.

Her assailant turned out to be the cat.

"Bald spot cat?" she exclaimed.

"It's not a bald spot-mepo!" the cat said.

Wait.

Nagisa screamed. The cat got the message and launched himself off and onto the floor, giving her the second painful jab to the stomach she'd experienced within a single minute. She scrambled off her bed and grabbed her crosse as if it would protect her from the creature.

"What?! WHAT?! A talking cat?! No way... There's just no way!" she whimpered, more to herself than to him.

"Just put down the stick and listen to me-mepo!"

Nagisa lifted the crosse above her head. "G-Get away! I won't hesitate!"

"Mepooo!" the cat screamed and ran to her balcony that she realized she'd forgotten to close the door to. That would explain how he got in. "Don't hurt me-mepo! What are you doing-mepo! This isn't how legendary warriors should-"

"What's with all the 'mepo mepo' stuff? Say 'mepo' one more time!"

The cat clamped his mouth shut, clearly fighting the urge. "MEPOOO!" he shouted, darting back into the room and between her legs. Oh, no no no, that was closer than Nagisa ever needed to be to a weird talking cat. Who knew if he was even a cat at all?

Nagisa screamed and bolted back to her bed. This had to be a dream. If she just closed her eyes she'd wake back up in the real world where cats didn't-

"Listen to me-mepo!"

She opened her eyes to find him standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up, hugging a stuffed panda close in a feeble attempt to make herself feel better. Saner. "What do you want? What... are you?"

"My name is Mepple-mepo."

"Mepple-mepo?" Nagisa repeated.

"No-mepo. Mepple-mepo."

Nagisa blinked, then nodded her understanding. Maybe he'd go away if she just complied.

"I'm here because I've finally found you, the Legendary Warrior-mepo!"

"Legendary Warrior?" Nagisa said. She'd hardly say a girl in a wrinkled school uniform armed with nothing but a crosse would be something anyone would call a warrior. "I think you've got the wrong-"

"I didn't think you looked anything like what I was looking for-mepo. Until you saved me-mepo! If you didn't take off that bandage I wouldn't be able to talk-mepo!"

"And then where would we be?" Nagisa said dryly.

"Listen-mepo! A strange presence is in the air and it's threatening the city-mepo! I've watched you all day and I'm sure you're the warrior destined to find the Legendary Prism Crystal and the Princess of Light-mepo!"

"The what and the who?" This was getting way too complex. As if a cat being able to talk didn't make things complex enough.

Mepple rolled his eyes, which Nagisa was pretty sure cats weren't supposed to be able to do. "The sacred treasure and the princess of the Garden of Light-mepo!"

"Oh, well, that clears it up," Nagisa said, chuckling in an attempt to depressurize. It didn't work.

Mepple groaned, hopped off the bed, and padded over to the balcony. He pointed up at the sky with a round little paw. "There-mepo!"

Nagisa looked up into the twilight and saw oranges fading to blues but no supposed Garden of Light. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That-mepo! The big white circle with the rabbit on the side-mepo!"

"... You mean the moon?"

"We called it the Garden of Light-mepo," Mepple said, going back inside. Nagisa followed and closed the balcony door before the neighbors started thinking she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"So... you're an alien?"

"I guess, but that's not important-mepo!"

"I beg to differ-"

"Just take this-mepo!" And with that, Mepple suddenly did a high-reaching somersault, leaving behind a trail of sparkling dust that materialized into a white and pink brooch that fell into Nagisa's hands. It was heavy, and it was cute. But it also came out of nowhere!

Nagisa cast the thing onto her bed, freaked beyond belief. "What is happening?!"

Mepple picked up the brooch between his sharp little teeth. Whatever muffled words came out of his mouth, they couldn't have been all that pleasant. But then he dropped it himself, ears perked up. "I sense an evil presence-mepo!"

Nagisa backed away. "A what?"

"Turn on the TV-mepo!"

Nagisa ran into the family room and did as she was told. On the screen flickered live footage of the mall, with policemen trying to break in.

"It seems there is some sort of barrier inside preventing entry into the complex," the news anchor said. "The state of the patrons inside is currently unknown."

The bottom of Nagisa's stomach dropped out. "That's where Shiho and Rina went! Do you think they're still in there?"

"I don't know-mepo! But I know this looks like a job for you-mepo!"

"Me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Put on the brooch and shout, 'Black Prism Power, Make Up'-mepo!"

Nagisa assumed the "mepo" was meant to be left out. "What good'll that do?"

"Just do it-mepo!"

And so, feeling like the kind of fool that announces to a packed train car that she got a thirty percent on a test, Nagisa attached the brooch to her bow tie and shouted, "Black Prism Power, Make Up!"

Her hand shot up without her permission. An instant later, the world around her exploded in blinding rainbow-colored light. She wanted to scream, wriggle, call for help as she was lifted into a void of pure color, but instead her body moved in sweeping, elegant movements in a choreography that she'd never learned. A yelp wished to break through her enforced silence when all clothing except the brooch vanished. Great ribbons of light erupted from the brooch, wrapping around her body in the shape of a leotard, gloves, boots, and a miniskirt. A big bow tied itself just above her backside, earrings clipped themselves into her ears, a choker found its way around her neck. Then a strange, almost searing sensation prickled in the center of her forehead, until a hard metal circlet materialized in place. Finally, her feet touched ground, though still all she saw was nebulous color. Her body struck several battle-ready poses she had no say in striking. But she really started freaking out when her voice started making choices of its own.

"I am the emissary of light that fights for love and for justice! I am Sailor Black! And now, in the name of the Garden of Light..." Her arm snapped forward, pointing a warning finger to no one in particular. "...return to the darkness from which you came!"

She blinked -- Oh, joy, she could blink her own eyelids! -- and the world faded back to her living room.

"...Say what?"

Mepple looked upon her with eyes that saw some champion of justice, as opposed to the middle-schooler in a shrunken black and pink sailor fuku that Nagisa saw when she caught her reflection in a mirror. "Amazing-mepo..." he said. "The Legendary Warrior has awakened right in front of me-mepo!"

"Awakened?"

"Now Sailor Black can finally fulfill her destiny and help restore the Garden of Light to its former glory-mepo!"

"I'm going to what?" Nagisa wanted to press further, suddenly feeling less hugged and more caged by the costume's tight fabric. But the sirens blaring from the television set reminded her there were more pressing matters at hand. "How am I supposed to help Rina and Shiho and everyone like this?" she asked, holding the black skirt's hem between her fingers.

"You are Sailor Black-mepo! You have legendary powers-"

"If you call me 'legendary' one more time..." Nagisa started, simmering on the outside but reeling from how fast this was happening on the inside.

"Never mind that-mepo. Let's go-mepo!" And with that, Mepple ran back to Nagisa's bedroom.

"That's not the way out," Nagisa said, following him. She found him with his front paws on the glass door to her balcony. "Maybe you always land on your feet, but I don't-"

"Do you want to save your friends or not-mepo!"

"I do, I do!"

"Then trust me-mepo!"

Nagisa sighed. She guessed she couldn't exit through the apartment complex's lobby dressed like this. She didn't feel particularly powerful, but if a cat could talk to her and she could change her clothes just by saying a phrase, then maybe she could trust this little guy.

She placed a gloved hand on the handle and slid the door aside in a shuddering motion. "Okay... Okay..." she heaved as she stepped onto the balcony. She'd never before given much thought to how high up the apartment really was. How she'd taken for granted the fact that she knew what the tops of neighboring buildings looked like. She'd never considered having to stand on them!

Part of her wanted to back away, to declare this whole mess some stress-induced fever dream that would all go away once she came back to her senses. But then she thought of her friends' horrified faces, their screams for help, who knows who keeping them in that dark mall to do who knows what.

Next thing she knew, her foot launched herself off the railing and into the newly dark night. The jump sent her farther up than she'd ever thought possible. She bypassed several buildings until her feet touched the roof of some office building. The sole of her boot touched concrete for but a moment before she took to the air yet again.

She wanted to scream but at the same time a euphoria was building inside her. "My body!" she exclaimed to Mepple, who rode her shoulder. "It's so light! And my muscles are so strong!"

"That's the power of the Sailor Guardians-mepo!" he said.

"Guardians? You mean there are others?"

"We'll talk about it later-mepo."

[willsimpforanyone]

this is like a really stupid idea but how would bucky react to see his + readers future child (but reader and him aren’t together)

definitely not a stupid idea hun! now, i think i’m gonna go with either loki or wanda, bc they can fuck with people’s heads... NO wait the reader can kinda see the future. okay i think i have an idea. we gon make bucky suffer for a hot second, but that’s okay (sorry, i like writing out my thought process)

tw: slight mention of violence

___________________

Sweat was dripping from his body. Glancing at the clock beside his bed, Bucky realised it was 6am. He’d gone to bed at 10pm. He’d spent 8 hours lying awake in bed. Ridiculous.

He knows it’s ridiculous, he should have gotten up, maybe tire himself out with some midnight training. He could have put some music on, hell he could have got himself a glass of warm milk, but he didn’t. Every time his eyes closed, screams and visions of blood and merciless gunshots would return, keeping him awake and tense. 

Shit, he thought he could deal with it. But with each memory that dragged itself back into his head, he couldn’t help but feeling like he deserved to suffer. What were sleepless nights, when there were people who were now asleep permanently? What was the point in trying to find ways to sleep when it would only bring the next day faster, bring closer the future he didn’t deserve. The future he wasn’t convinced he had.

He sat up, running his fingers through his hair. Shower, a shower would be a good idea, get the sweat off and hopefully the images out of his head. Soon enough, Bucky was under the water, running his hands over his face in a forlorn attempt to wash away the feeling of hopelessness that was nagging at his heart. 

Even being clean, dry, and in fresh clothes didn’t help, and a glance at the clock showed him that only half an hour had passed. Almost mechanically, Bucky found his way to the kitchen, with half an intent to get some food- cereal, maybe. Cooking was really not an option today. 

To his surprise, the scent of slightly burnt toast wafted its way from the kitchen. He must be really off today, he normally would have recognised instantly that someone else was up and about this early. To his surprise, he saw you, pyjama t-shirt and shorts, cursing quietly at your aforementioned burnt toast, blowing slightly on your fingers to ease the faint burn as you transferred the toast from the toaster to your plate. 

Bucky leant against the doorframe, unwilling to impose himself on what he presumed to be a relatively quiet and personal moment. He noticed perhaps the moment wasn’t as peaceful as he thought, as he saw you drop the butter knife and clutch your head, wincing. He coughed lightly, and you spun round to see the super soldier making his way to the centre island in the kitchen. You smiled at him, still with one hand to your head. 

Bucky’s voice was low, unwilling to break the gentle lull that happens when it’s early and hardly anyone is awake. “Are you okay? Did the knife hurt you?”

You shook your head, leaning down to where said knife had landed, a little way away on the floor. “No,” you said in an equally quiet tone. “Just... the future visions are scatter-y, nothing clear, it’s like getting ambushed with memories of useless nonsense I haven’t had yet.”

“Scatter-y?” Bucky chuckled, and you nodded sheepishly. You turned back around, wiping the knife on a kitchen towel before continuing to use it.

“Yeah, it’s like they can’t decide who’s future to show me or which part. Like, I know Tony is gonna lose a spanner, but I don’t know when or how relevant that is to... anything.” You sighed, and took a bite of toast, carrying your plate over to the island and sitting across from Bucky. 

He nodded, and covered up a yawn. Your brow furrowed, suddenly aware of how tired the soldier looked, the bags under his eyes purpleish. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“...I didn’t.” Bucky decided that there was no point lying, he didn’t need to see the future like you to know that lying would do no good. “Couldn’t, even. Kept hearing... things...” He covered his ears and bowed his head. “So loud... so many lives... so many futures cut short...” 

You gently reached across the surface to place your hands on his, and he realised he’d been gripping his head tightly. Relaxing his hands, he let you pull them down and hold them. “I just... I took away so many people’s futures, I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t get one,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. 

He felt your grip tighten, and looked up. You were looking deeply at him, and in his fragile state he almost felt intimidated. “Bucky,” you squeezed his hands again. “You do deserve a future. You were under someone else’s fucked up control, that was barely you. You have a future, Buck. I promise.”

Eyes lighting up, Bucky squeezed your hands back. “Hey, would it help if you had a future to focus on?”

You straightened up, and considered. “Maybe?”

“Could you... if you’re up for it- could you look into my future? Just a few years?”

You carefully made your way over to him round the island, already concentrating on him. You held out your hands, and he placed his in yours, surrendering his mind to you. 

There was a build up in your head, a pressure that wasn’t exactly pleasant, but if it would help Bucky, you were prepared to deal with it. 

All of a sudden, the pressure released. A white haze fogged your eyes, and you knew the same was happening to Bucky. It felt like static, like gentle pins and needles, and it took a second for the colours swirling in the haze to solidify into a scene.

You knew instantly that you’d overshot Bucky’s request of ‘a few years’ by... a few years. There was Bucky, looking about ten years older. And another figure, significantly smaller, running around the room they were in. A living room? There was certainly a sofa, and a couple armchairs. You felt Bucky’s shock at realising that oh shit, that was a child. That was... Bucky’s child. You knew it, you felt it, and Bucky felt it through you. 

You couldn’t get any clear sounds, just garbled nonsense and something that might have been laughter. Future Bucky grabbed the- five, six?- year old child and lifted them into the air, resting them on his hip.

There was a third figure coming into view, carrying... clothes? You focused on this new figure, and as they became more solid, you realised with surprise that the mysterious figure was you. You were in Bucky’s future.

You felt Present Bucky’s hands shaking, gripping yours as you allowed him some control over what to focus on. Immediately, he focused on Future You’s hands, specifically the left hand. Even more specifically, the ring finger, which had a shiny ring on it, a small diamond with amethyst set either side. He switched to Future Bucky’s hand, where a similar ring sat. You felt a jolt of emotion as you and Bucky realised, at the same time, that you were married. 

That would mean...

You gently took back the reins from Bucky, and panned over to the child still in Bucky’s arms. They looked alarmingly like a combination of you two, and to your surprise, you felt a huge wave of affection coming from Present Bucky. The vision began to fade, and a wave of dizziness swept over you. Bucky caught you just as you were about to fall, steadying you on the stool you were on.

“Thanks...” you murmured, touching your head. The pressure was gone, and after a few minutes of recovery, you were fairly sure you’d be fine. Bucky hadn’t said anything, just stared at you in wonder. You flushed as you met his eyes, deep and intense. His hands were still holding yours.

“Well... that was interesting.”

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if that was ANYTHING like you had in mind, i’ll be amazed. i tend to get sidetracked from the actual request... thank you so much for requesting, let me know what you think? i’m sorry idk how to end fics 😞it’s late and i should be in bed why do i do this to myself <3